


To Sleep Under the Same Night Sky

by theorchardofbones



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No War, Big Sis Aranea, Fade to Black, First Kiss, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mild Language, Slow Burn, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-01-18 16:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12391911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Eight hours and thousands of miles apart, Prompto and Noctis are the best of friends. When the topic of seeing one another face-to-face jokingly comes up one night, Prompto can't quite shake the idea.Before they can think about either one of them travelling the world to see the other, there's the small matter of Noct's royal blood — a fact he's kept secret from Prompto all this time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to [ferix79](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79) for the help figuring out the time difference between Lucis and Niflheim!
> 
> The boys' chat was supposed to be littered with emoji, but they don't play nice with AO3, so you get the hideousness of kaomoji instead.
> 
> main tumblr | ffxv sideblog

Auriel steps forward to face the great monster in front of her. The odds are stacked against her — how can she, a lowly elf rogue, hope to defeat such pure evil?

She’s not alone, though; no, she has the brave knight Terricus at her side. Together, they _will_ prevail.

If Noct would just stop going afk.

‘Dude,’ Prompto mutters, after Noct’s fifth disappearance tonight.

He flexes his fingers and tabs open the chat window.

 _ **[17:34] Auriel Duskwalker:** DUDE. before i’m old plz _  
_**[17:35] Auriel Duskwalker:** srsly man i got work at 7 _  
_**[17:37] Auriel Duskwalker:** nooooooooooooooooooct _  
_**[17:40] Terricus the Fierce:** sorry. had to take care of something. _  
_**[17:40] Auriel Duskwalker:** cryptic _  
_**[17:41] Terricus the Fierce:** yeah yeah. we doin this? _

Auriel readies her bow, nocking a spelled arrow. She waits until her stalwart companion is in position and fires, hitting the great beast squarely in the forehead. The spell does its trick — it leaves the monster slow and dazed, giving Terricus time to rush in with a volley of slashes, swinging his greatsword as if it weighs nothing at all.

While the monster is distracted, the elf sneaks around it, readying her twin daggers. Their blades are tipped with poison; she takes advantage of her foe’s inattention and slashes at his exposed flank.

 _ **[17:46] Auriel Duskwalker:** isn’t it like… really late there? _  
_**[17:47] Terricus the Fierce:** nearly 2 _  
_**[17:47] Auriel Duskwalker:** dude GO TO BED _  
_**[17:47] Terricus the Fierce:** concentrate! _

Auriel isn’t paying attention; she takes too long in readying a stealth attack and instead of staggering the foe, he turns to face her. She flinches as a strike from the beast lands squarely across her; another sends her sprawling to the ground, leaving her vulnerable.

The monster rounds on her, gaping maw full of dripping teeth. She’s too weak to recover, so she fumbles in her belt for a potion, barely getting it to her lips before the beast readies its power attack and unleashes the brunt of its fury upon her.

Terricus tries to fight on without his comrade, and it’s a valiant effort — but fruitless. With nobody to divide the beast’s attention, it’s merely a matter of time before it whittles his health down and he sinks to his knees, defeated.

 _ **[17:59] Auriel Duskwalker:** SHIT i’m sorry _  
_**[18:59] Auriel Duskwalker:** try again? _  
_**[18:00] Terricus the Fierce:** i should probably get some sleep anyway. iggy chewed me out for still being awake. _  
_**[18:00] Auriel Duskwalker:** haha why is HE awake?? _  
_**[18:01] Terricus the Fierce:** work stuff i guess. he needs to take a chill pill. _  
_**[18:01] Auriel Duskwalker:** for sure. _  
_**[18:02] Auriel Duskwalker:** we need a cleric bro :( _  
_**[18:02] Terricus the Fierce:** what, and brake up our merry little band of two? _  
_**[18:03] Auriel Duskwalker:** ... _  
_**[18:03] Terricus the Fierce:** break* fuck _  
_**[18:03] Auriel Duskwalker:** hahaha go to sleep dude _  
_**[18:03] Terricus the Fierce:** lol _  
_**[18:03] Terricus the Fierce:** alright gdnite _  
**_[18:03] Terricus the Fierce bows_**  
**_[18:04] Auriel Duskwalker waves_**

* * *

It’s late when Prompto gets back in from work, but the lights are on in the house he shares with Aranea.

Prompto slips his sukajan onto the hook by the door, careful not to dislodge the long black coat alongside it. The hem of it is stained with dirt, still wet; Aranea must have just got home.

He ducks his head into the kitchenette and finds her sitting at the island nursing a fresh mug of coffee, still steaming hot. Her expression is dark where she leans over a pile of paperwork.

‘Everything okay?’ he asks.

He knows he’s taking his life into his own hands when he disturbs her from her work, but still — to say that she’s been stressed lately is an understatement. Sometimes she needs a subtle, nagging voice over her shoulder reminding her to take it easy sometimes.

‘Just getting strangled in all the red tape,’ she says.

She slips a pair of red and black glasses from her face — a new pair, recently prescribed to combat the tension headaches she’s been getting — and rubs between her brows.

‘Trust me, Prompto. You’ll get a brilliant idea to help people someday, and you’ll realise it’s ninety percent paperwork and ten percent actually making a difference.’

There’s still coffee in the jug; Prompto pours himself a cup, fills it with milk and sugar, and plops down on the bar stool beside her.

‘Ten percent is still good, though, right?’ he says, helpfully. ‘Better than not trying to make a difference at all.’

She sighs and sweeps a hand through her hair, momentarily pushing it back from her face. It always makes her look so different; brings out the green of her eyes.

‘Maybe,’ she mutters. ‘Doesn’t always feel like it, though.’

There’s a prospectus amid all the papers in front of her, a photo of a group of smiling teenagers emblazoned on the cover. Prompto stretches forward and pulls it over to get a better look at it; the words ‘Solace: Early Intervention’ spread out across the top of it in a clean font.

‘What’s this?’ he asks.

Aranea shrugs.

‘Nothing — _yet._ We’re talking about trying to reach out to kids with an after-school programme, but we need _funding_ to do that.’

Prompto flips open the cover. The first page is an index with a lot of terms that all sound very big and very important, and beyond his comprehension at this late hour.

‘Let me guess,’ he says. ‘They’re taking it into consideration?’

Aranea rolls her eyes, and he guesses he’s hit the mark. It seems to be the same thing every time, and even though she usually has the tenacity to fight until they reach a compromise, he can tell it’s starting to wear on her.

‘When they made me head of R&D, I thought I’d be in a position to make some real change,’ she says wearily. ‘All they ever see is the bottom line.’

Prompto feels a little pang of guilt. She had offered him a position as a paid intern when she was promoted, and he had turned it down — a mixture of fear of failure, and a lack of motivation. He can’t help wondering if helping minimise her workload would have reduced her stress along the way, especially when all the other interns she has hired have left shortly thereafter.

‘You ever think about what it might have been like if you hadn’t taken the promotion?’ he asks, thumbing the handle of his mug.

‘What, stay on face-to-face?’ Aranea says. ‘I guess. Pay was shit, but it felt good to be able to help people on a personal level. Got a little frustrating when I could only work within the limits of the programme, though.’

Prompto scoots his stool a little closer and lets his head rest against Aranea’s shoulder.

‘If it makes you feel better,’ he says, ‘you made a big difference in my life.’

A sigh from Aranea; he feels her arm slip around him.

‘Why can’t I bring you along to the meetings?’ she says with a sigh. ‘One look at those big blue eyes and they wouldn’t be able to resist.’

Prompto laughs, and the sound turns into a yelp as she ruffles his hair. He just about manages to slip free of her grasp — she’s freakishly strong — and straightens his hair with an indignant pout.

‘Might not be such a bad idea,’ she says, once he finally takes his seat again. ‘Get one of the kids in for a Q&A with the board members. Remind them that it’s actual people we’re dealing with, not just numbers.’

He nods his head thoughtfully. He likes watching her work, likes seeing the light bulb go off when inspiration strikes her. She might doubt herself sometimes, but she’s good at what she does.

‘Should you be drinking coffee?’ Aranea says suddenly. ‘It’s nearly midnight.’

‘Should _you?_ ’ he counters, poking his tongue out.

She reaches out and this time he can’t evade her as she drags her fingers through his hair, setting it standing up at all angles as he can do little more than gasp in protest.

* * *

Noct is on messenger by the time Prompto gets up to his room. He figures it’s still early over in Insomnia, so he doesn’t want to bombard the guy with a greeting when he’s just woken up; yet seeing Noct’s name in the friend list, lit up and waiting, makes his heart leap, and it’s hard to resist.

He toys with opening a chat window, but settles for getting ready for bed instead.

He sheds his uniform, stripping off the tailored black shirt and carefully setting it aside for tomorrow. The jeans are his own, but they’re a pair he bought specially for the job — probably fancier than anything else he owns. He still wonders sometimes how he netted a job at Gustatus, but when he’s still barely scraping by on tips, the elite restaurant loses some of its lustre.

He stretches his arms out over his head and glances at his weights in the corner. Can’t hurt to work out a little before bed; he’s still not quite at his goal.

When he’s done, he pulls on an old t-shirt and brushes his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, figuring he’ll head straight to bed, but as he moves his laptop over to shut it off he sees a message waiting for him.

 **_nocturnal:_ ** _hey, u up?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _just about. work killed me ಥ_ಥ_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _n’awwwww. how were the clients?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _eh. tips were alright though._  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _sleep ok?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _do i ever?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _maybe if *somebody* went to bed before midnight sometimes..._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _( ︶︿︶)_╭∩╮_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _you got work today?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _yep (¬＿¬)_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _hq are sending some rep tomorrow or some shit and we gotta prep_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _3 hrs of inventory fml_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _ouch. you have my sympathies, bro_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i don’t need sympathy, i need a body double_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _wait, u think that’s possible?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _lol_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _i’ll fly over. throw a wig on. they’ll never know the difference_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _home before anybody notices._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _u mean ur gonna come visit and i don’t even get to see u?_

Prompto chews his lip as he reads Noct’s last response. He knows they’re just teasing — talking in hypotheticals — but even joking about it gives him a little pang of longing. It always seems so unfair that he could be so close to somebody who lives so far away.

He slips in under the covers and pulls his laptop up, lying on his side while he types.

 **_chocobuns:_ ** _i mean *maybe* i’d make time for you. if you made it worth my while_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _aw jeez. i feel so special._  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _you shouldn’t ⚈ ̫⚈_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _omg ur such an ass_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _you love me (✿ ♥‿♥)_

Prompto sets music playing low — some band that Noct recommended to him a few years back, when they first got to talking. The singer’s voice is clear and sweet, the music melodic. He can already feel his eyes growing heavy.

 **_chocobuns:_ ** _it’d be pretty cool though. getting to visit._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _yeah i mean_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’ve thought about it sometimes_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _seriously?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _yeah like last summer. i couldn’t get away tho_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _plus my dad would FREAK if he thought i was visiting some rando from the internet_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _is that all i am? ‘some rando’?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _yup ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _but ur MY rando_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _( ˘ ³˘)♥_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _now whose an ass_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _who’s*_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _omfg_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _you’re one to talk_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _¯\\_(ツ)_/¯_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _you’re lucky you’re cute. i’d block you if you weren’t._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _u think i’m cute?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _now u DEFINITELY gotta come visit_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _lol_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _shit_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i hope u don’t think i’m a weirdo now_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _prommmmptooooooo_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _tell me ur not getting a restraining order rn（｀〇Д〇）_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _shit sorry i fell asleep_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _lmao_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _so u don’t think i’m a weirdo?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _well i mean…_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’m not the one who called u cute!_  
**_chocobuns:_** _you don’t think i’m cute?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _(;﹏;)_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _ur cute_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _in a baby chocobo sorta way_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _lol_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _hey, i wanted to talk to u about something_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i kinda wanted to do it over v-chat but i guess aranea’s asleep so that’s not rly an option_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _prom?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _guess u fell asleep again_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _never mind. it’s not important._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _talk to you later, k? or… tomorrow. or whatever_  
**_nocturnal:_** _nite_


	2. Chapter 2

Prompto rubs sleep from his eyes and tries to stifle a yawn for the millionth time since sinking into his seat on the subway car.

They had finally gotten past a dungeon last night after days of trying and yeah, it had been worth it — but he’s paying the price for it now. Astrals know why he didn’t just cancel his plans today and try to sleep it off, but here he is now wedged between a man in a business suit and a teenage girl with choppy hair dyed in blocks of brilliant colours.

This time, when he tries to muffle the oncoming yawn his hand doesn’t quite get there in time and he just lets it happen, screwing his eyes shut and tipping his head back against the window behind him.

He barely hears the automated announcement for his stop and has to blunder out of his seat in time to get through the doors before the shut.

He’s hit by the sounds of the district as soon as he steps up to street level: cars, voices, music. He passes brightly-coloured stores and arcades, and watches the girl from the subway waltz into a pet store with a parrot spitting curses from where it hangs outside the door.

Prompto has been here so often — walked these streets all hours of the day — that he doesn’t need to watch for landmarks as he goes. Still, he lifts his right hand and checks the address scrawled on the back of it just to be sure.

Moon’s is equal parts café, boutique clothes store and tattoo parlour, but as Prompto squeezes past somebody in the entryway he’s headed for the door just down the hall, to the apartments above the shop. Even as he slips through the unlocked door, shuts it behind him and heads up the narrow stairwell, he can still hear the pounding bass of whatever music is playing below.

It’s not exactly where he would expect to find Loqi, but sure enough when he knocks on the door it’s Loqi’s face that appears, eyes ringed purple with exhaustion.

‘Prom,’ he says — more of a croak, really. ‘You’re early. Come in.’

The apartment is a mess, but there’s enough to distract from the clothes and dirty dishes strewn about the place: the walls are painted a vivid pink, with posters of punk bands and idols pinned to them. There’s no bulb in the light fixture hanging from the ceiling, but there are more than enough tacky multicoloured string lights about the place to make up for it.

‘Is, uh,’ Prompto says, carefully perching himself on a corner of the couch not currently overloaded with dirty laundry. ‘Is she home?’

Loqi scratches at a patch of stubble under his chin and gives a shrug.

‘Sleeping. We can head out in a minute, if you want — just let me shave.’

While Loqi disappears deeper into the apartment, Prompto lets himself take in the full extent of the room. There’s a  _ lot _ to absorb; from his vantage point he can see the kitchenette in all its filthy splendour, the cupboards painted bright turquoise with yellow suns adorning the centre of each one. There’s a litter tray in the corner of the living room, although he has yet to see whichever critter it belongs to.

When Prompto had first met Loqi, they had been in school together. The Tummelts were wealthy — like, unbelievably so — and Loqi had run in an entirely different social circle. As it turned out, his life of nobility and prestige hadn’t been all that it was cracked up to be.

It’s odd to see Loqi in such surroundings, having known him during his privileged upbringing, but then Prompto doesn’t think he’ll be here for long. Loqi’s relationships tend to be passionate and short lived. 

Loqi’s clean-shaven and wearing a fresh shirt when he returns, this one without the food stains of the former. He looks a little more like his usual self, even if his blazer is a little crumpled and faded.

‘You hungry?’ he asks. ‘There’s a place a couple blocks over that does vegan.’

Prompto barely resists the urge to laugh. Loqi must be pretty serious about this girl — or at least he thinks he is.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘They do coffee, right?’

Twenty minutes later they’re sitting in the corner of a quirky little place populated by an assortment of kids in all the latest trends and older patrons in earthy, muted fabrics. Loqi devours a pita loaded with falafel and vegetables while Prompto sips on his second coffee.

‘So,’ Prompto says, plucking at the edge of the wrap he ordered. ‘How are things with… Ayla?’

Loqi covers his mouth while he hurriedly chews and swallowed.

‘Great,’ he says. ‘My parents would hate her.’

Prompto keeps the comment about that being the basis for most of Loqi’s girlfriends to himself and nods thoughtfully. At least his friend seems happy — better off than the last time they met, anyway.

‘You think you’ll stay in the city?’ he asks.

‘Probably,’ Loqi says. ‘Once I find a job, anyway. Ayla said I can stay as long as I need.’

Prompto takes a swig of his coffee and casts a glance around the café. There are decorations on all the walls — old movie posters, contemporary art, and assorted trinkets from wheels to old watering cans.

‘What about you?’ Loqi says. ‘You’re staying with Aranea, right? Ever think about getting your own place?’

Prompto snorts.

‘On tips?’ he counters. ‘Yeah, right. I’m good where I am. She’s pretty great to live with, rent is low. I don’t think I could go through all the drama of living with strangers again.’

Loqi reaches out and grabs his smoothie — some ultra healthy concoction with more vegetables than fruit — before taking a sip from the straw.

‘It’s Ayla’s birthday this weekend,’ he says. ‘Party’s tonight, if you wanna come along. She’s pretty excited to meet you.’

Prompto taps his thumbnail against the handle of his coffee cup and stares down at the cream swirling on the liquid’s surface.

‘I can’t, actually,’ he says. ‘Got plans.’

Even without looking up, he can see Loqi recoil as if in shock. He flicks an unamused glance up at his friend over the brim of his coffee cup as he takes a drink.

‘Prompto? With actual  _ plans? _ ’ Loqi says. ‘It’s okay, you can tell me if you just don’t want to go.’

Prompto rolls his eyes. It’s not as if he’s entirely enthused about meeting Ayla — from what he’s heard, she sounds like  _ a lot _ — but he’d go if he could, if only for Loqi’s sake.

‘Noooo,’ he says. ‘I really have plans.’

Loqi watches him with narrowed eyes as he spears a piece of lettuce with his fork and uses it to mop up a drop of dressing.

‘Hot date?’

Prompto shrugs.

‘Something like that,’ he says.

‘Well,’ Loqi says, setting his fork aside and leaving the lettuce untouched. ‘If things work out, maybe you can bring her along to the party after. If you want to.’

A nervous little laugh pushes past Prompto’s lips and he hopes Loqi doesn’t think anything of it. With a shrug, he pushes his hair out of his eyes; he realises he’s fidgeting and stops abruptly, moving his hand to the brim of his coffee cup.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Just don’t get your hopes up.’

* * *

‘Are you ready?’

‘Gimme just one sec.’

Prompto lies back and shovels a handful of candy into his mouth while he waits.

He has voice chat set up on his phone and a movie ready to stream on his laptop; Aranea won’t be finished work for a couple hours, so he doesn’t have to worry about her kicking him off the wifi. It’s the closest thing he and Noct have got to hanging out — not just playing games, but doing something actual friends would do together — and he’s been looking forward to it for weeks.

‘All right,’ Noct says. He sounds a little out of breath. ‘Ready when you are.’

Prompto takes a second to adjust the positioning of his laptop until he’s happy with it, and turns to fluff the pillows up behind him.

‘On three?’ he suggests.

‘Okay,’ Noct says. ‘On three. One, two…’

It’s a movie Prompto has seen a dozen of times — a fraught neo-noir thriller set in an alternate future where Lucis and Niflheim are still at war. The plot follows a jaded Niflheim military officer who uncovers some unpleasant truths about his comrades, and finds an unlikely ally in a young Lucian woman. He hadn’t thought Noct would be interested in it, but then Noct had suggested they watch it together and Prompto hadn’t been able to dial back his excitement.

It’s a little weird think of a timeline in which he and Noct wouldn’t have been best friends: in which they would have been sworn enemies instead.

‘There’s not, like, sex in this?’ Noct says. Prompto can hear rustling as he wrestles with a bag of chips on the other end of the line. ‘Not like that anime you made me watch?’

Prompto laughs as he recalls his friend’s keysmash-filled email after he had watched it.  _ Soul Guardian: Hidden Truth  _ had been one of Prompto’s favourites as a teenager, but he had forgotten about all the nudity and trippy dream sequences when he had recommended it to Noct.

‘There’s a love scene,’ he says. ‘But it’s, like. Classy. You only see sideboob.’

Noct’s snort is loud and distorted over the line, and Prompto’s grateful that the phone is far from his ear or he might have been deafened by it.

_‘Riiight,’_ Noct says. ‘Sideboob.  _ Classy. _ ’

‘Tell me you’ve never had posters of girls up in your room.’

There’s silence across the call, and Prompto worries he’s said the wrong thing. He’s always worried about that — worried about saying something that scares Noct off once and for all. They’ve gotten so close over the past few years that he couldn’t deal with losing him over saying something stupid.

‘Honestly?’ Noct says. ‘Nope. Not ever.’

There’s a ring in the shape of a cup to the left of the touchpad of his laptop; Prompto rubs at it idly, wearing at it bit by bit.

‘Me either,’ he says quietly.

‘Now  _ that _ doesn’t surprise me,’ Noct says. ‘You’re squeaky clean.’

Prompto’s glad they’re on opposite ends of a call; his cheeks are burning so hot he’s sure he would never live it down if Noct could see.

He stops rubbing at the ring and folds his arms across his chest with a little  _ hmph. _

‘Am not,’ he says, indignant.

There’s a sceptical  _ tch _ on the other end of the line.

‘Prompto, if you were a spice, you’d be vanilla.’

‘Hey, that’s not—’ Prompto blurts, but he cuts off as he realises Noct is laughing.

‘What are you laughing about?’ he says. ‘Having fun teasing me?’

‘No,’ Noct says. ‘It’s just cute that you’re getting all flustered.’

There’s that word again:  _ cute. _ Maybe Prompto was the one who used it last time, but to hear Noct say it makes his stomach flip a little. It doesn’t exactly help with the flush of his cheeks, either.

He busies himself with a sip from his can of Sylkis Boost energy drink, and Noct’s laughter tapers off until there’s silence between them.

On the other end of the line, Noct clears his throat.

‘We should probably watch the movie,’ Noct says.

‘Yeah. Probably.’

Prompto glances down at his phone where the chat app is open, happily draining his battery. Noct’s profile picture is up on the screen, a selfie he jokingly sent of his hair gelled up into a mohawk. He’s got the biggest grin on his face in it, like he doesn’t care how ridiculous he looks.

When he looks up at the movie again it’s the scene where the main character first bumps into the Lucian woman, not realising who she is.

‘Oh, you’re gonna love this,’ Prompto says, sitting upright. ‘Look out for the guy in black.’

There’s an altercation at a train station — the antihero collides with a pickpocket and sets off on a chase, and as his eyes lock with the Lucian’s across the crowd, the pickpocket slams into a man clad entirely in black, bowling him over in a melodramatic tussle.

‘Was that…?’ Noct says.

Prompto grins. It’s such a ridiculous cameo that he almost hadn’t realised it the first time: one of the lead singers from the world-famous Altissian gothic metal band La Rinascita.

‘Yup. None other.’

Noct whistles.

‘That’s crazy.’

They chatter as the movie goes on, but it isn’t long before Noct steadily falls into long bouts of silence as the movie sucks him in.

After a while it’s easy to forget there aren’t thousands of miles between them — to pretend that they could be watching this movie on the same screen, sitting side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> main tumblr | ffxv sideblog


	3. Chapter 3

Prompto’s palms are sweaty, and there’s about a 35% chance it has everything to do with the tense game of manhunt they’ve been playing.

It’s a simple enough mode: one life each, start with just the clothes on your back and work your way up. Noct is normally way better at it anyway because he can keep his cool, but today — today Prompto just sucks.

Noct has already nearly killed him twice, and the spells where Prompto goes undetected are getting fewer and farther between. It’s a fraught game of cat and mouse, and Prompto is very much the prey.

Okay, so maybe it’s more like 40%.

The other sixty? He’s trying really hard not to think about that when he can see Noct’s character stalking through the undergrowth from his tenuous perch among the trees.

‘There’s blood down here,’ Noct taunts over his headset. ‘Something tells me you’re nearby…’

Prompto tries to keep his voice level — he really, really tries, but it comes out all strained and weird, like he’s hitting puberty all over again.

‘Nope,’ he says. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Noct’s laughter comes over the line, pure and clear, and it rings right through Prompto’s chest. He almost lets go of the grab button in response, which would be very bad. It’s the only thing keeping him hanging from the branch.

‘Why don’t you just let me kill you already?’ Noct teases. ‘I’m gonna have to hit the hay soon.’

Prompto doesn’t answer. He’s too busy holding his breath as he watches Noct approach, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With each step, Noct gets closer, and Prompto’s finger itches as it hovers over the right trigger. He just has to be patient; just a little more,  _ a little more… _

‘HA!’ he shouts.

He hits the trigger and sends his character diving downward, combat knife at the ready. It’s the perfect shot — he’s got a clear angle on the back of Noct’s neck, and when it connects he’ll— 

— get thrown off, as Noct grapples him and throws him to the ground.

‘Alertness upgrade,’ Noct says. ‘You didn’t think I was collecting all those newspaper clippings for fun, did you?’

Prompto frantically taps at the buttons to get back up, able to do little more than watch as Noct draws a machete from the belt around his hips. He’s up, finally — but not before Noct can throw a glancing blow at his arm. Red splotches of blood creep in around the edges of the screen, and he just about manages to roll away before another strike can take off his head.

He sprints, regrouping around the other side of a tree; while he watches Noct approach, he trades his combat knife for the lead pipe he picked up an hour earlier and hasn’t had a chance to use yet.

Noct doesn’t wait for Prompto to make a move — he slashes out with his machete, and Prompto manages to parry the first blow but the next one hits him square in the ribs.

Prompto knows, as blood darkens more of the screen, that he should have just run; that the window for escape is gone now, that he won’t be able to sprint while so badly injured. All he can do is stick it out, trying futilely to back up enough to use a healing bandage to take care of some of the damage.

He has the bandage at the ready when Noct switches to his knife, giving him a boost to agility; before Prompto can wind the bandage around his wound, Noct strikes out and slashes frantically at him.

The screen goes dark.

_ Game Over. _

Noct, at least, isn’t the type to brag; even he sounds a little breathless when he chimes in.

‘Good game, dude. You almost had me there.’

Prompto gives a shuddering, jittery laugh.

‘Thanks, dude,’ he says. ‘But we both know that’s B.S.’

‘No, seriously!’ Noct protests. ‘I’ve been sweating bullets here for the past half-hour.’

It’s not really something Prompto can picture — his perpetually cool, laidback best friend, drenched in cold sweat.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Me too.’

‘Y’know,’ Noct says, and Prompto can hear the slight  _ thud _ as he sets his controller aside. ‘For somebody who almost died a bunch of times, you kept your cool.’

At this, Prompto can’t help but burst into laughter.

‘ _ Really? _ ’ he counters. ‘Dude, I’ve been internally screaming ever since that first time at the saw mill.’

‘You hid it pretty well,’ Noct says. ‘I was scared I was walking into a trap.’

Prompto could kick himself.  _ A trap. _ Of course. He could have set up a few snares in the forest, and he’s almost positive he had the parts to jury-rig a bear trap.

‘Rematch tomorrow?’ Noct says.

‘Yeah, sure.’

There’s a yawn over the headset, long and weary, and Prompto wonders if Noct is already snuggled up in his PJs ready to go. It’s still early here, but just hearing Noct yawn almost makes him want to get an early night.

‘Gonna go, bro,’ Noct says.

Prompto feels his heart lurch. He had hoped that somewhere, in between the manhunt and the frequent snack breaks, that he might finally get the chance to spit out what he’s been festering over all evening. Now that he’s had so much time to plot his words, to dither and dally and talk himself out of it, he can’t believe that he’s about to miss his shot.

‘Wait!’ he blurts.

There’s silence over the headset. He almost expects the notification to pop up on his screen that Noct has left the party, but it doesn’t. There’s another yawn, almost enough to make him feel bad for making Noct stick around.

‘I’ll let you go in a minute,’ Prompto says, and even though Noct can’t see him he takes a second to smooth down his hair for a little confidence boost. ‘I was just thinking — I mean, tell me if it’s stupid, and there’s no pressure, okay? But I’ve been doing good on tips lately, and I’ve got vacation days to take, so I figured maybe, sometime, I could come see you.’

He waits, trying to get a feel for how it’s going so far. When Noct doesn’t say anything by way of response, he gets nervous — and Prompto babbles when he’s nervous.

‘I mean, it’s totally just a wild suggestion — I get that you probably don’t wanna meet some weirdo from the internet, right? It’s cool, I get it. Just thought I’d throw it out there.’

Noct still isn’t answering, and Prompto quickly switches from mindless babbling to fearful silence. Was it too much? Too forward? Maybe Noct is happy with what they have, and doesn’t want to ruin it.

‘Anyways,’ Prompto says, playing his thumb over the toggle of his controller. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow, dude. If you… If you still want to.’

‘Prompto.’

Noct’s tone brings out a fresh surge of apprehension; dread settles in Prompto’s stomach, making him feel sick. This is it, he guesses. When he was finally just a little  _ too _ weird and managed to frighten Noct away.

‘Yeah?’ he says quietly.

There’s a sigh over the headset, and he steels himself for the words — only his imagination seems so much worse than reality could ever be, and he wishes Noct would just get it over with— 

‘I gotta talk to you about something,’ Noct says. ‘Can we switch to video?’

Prompto wets his lips. His friend isn’t exactly helping with the whole dread thing.

‘Sure,’ he replies. ‘Gimme a minute.’

He shuts off his console, and for a little while he just sits and stares at the standby countdown on his TV as it ticks steadily by.

‘It’s nothing bad,’ he tells himself quietly. ‘It can’t be bad, or he’d just email it, right?’

He’s off work today, so he didn’t bother to style his hair — it sits in fluffy waves, and there’s very little he can do to make it presentable on such short notice. His shirt, at least, he can change; there’s a stain on the collar of it, and even though Noct knows he’s a slob, it doesn’t mean he has to  _ look _ like one.

When he’s done, he flips open his laptop and sees Noct already on the chat app. With a deep breath, he clicks the little camera button and waits for Noct to answer the call.

The lighting is terrible in Noct’s room, the glow of the laptop screen the only thing to illuminate his face. It gives him a washed out look, accentuating the purple under his eyes. He’s visibly exhausted, but then that’s no surprise — it’s well into the small hours of the night there.

‘So,’ Prompto says, hands fidgeting in his lap. ‘What was so big you couldn’t say it over headset?’

Noct looks a little paler, if that’s even possible.

‘I might not… have been totally honest with you,’ he says slowly.

Prompto stops his fidgeting. Again, his mind runs through all the worst-case scenarios and he’s left wondering, out of all the things they’ve confided in each other, what could possibly be so bad that Noct kept it from him.

‘Don’t tell me,’ Prompto says, forcing levity into his tone. ‘That meteorite shard you sent me was bogus.’

Noct narrows his eyes in confusion.

‘What? No,’ he replies. He covers his face momentarily with his hands, then shakes his head as he lets them drop. ‘I want you to know I totally did not intend to lie to you. And I kind of… thought you’d figure it out on your own, but you never did, and then the more we got to know each other the… the harder it got to spit it out.’

That squirming feeling in Prompto’s stomach seems to have reached its peak; if it gets any worse, he’s afraid he’ll hurl.

‘So,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you do it now? Spit it out?’

Noct looks down at his hands and chuckles, but there’s little warmth to it.

‘Maybe it’ll be easier if I show you,’ he says.

Prompto watches, nonplussed, as Noct disappears from view, the laptop tilting as he climbs out of bed. A light goes on in Noct’s room, and the camera fades out of focus for just a moment as it adjusts to the new source of illumination. Suddenly the laptop yanks around and it’s facing out into Noct’s bedroom, where he backs away a few feet to the middle of the floor.

Noct raises his hand as if he has something fragile clutched in the palm of it; closing his eyes, he flicks his arm to the side. With a flash of brilliant blue, something appears in Noct’s hand, and it’s difficult to tell with the quality of the camera but — Prompto thinks it might be a sword.

With another flash of blue, the sword is gone, and Noct steps forward, dropping to his knees in front of the laptop, his face close to the screen.

Prompto waits for some sort of explanation, but it never comes. He’s not even sure what he’d expect Noct to say — that he’s somehow rigged up his computer with onboard special effects? The only other possibility is that it’s magic, but that can’t be right; magic has been gone from the world for centuries, and the only ones who can wield it now are from the royal line of Lucis.

‘I’m…’ he begins, shaking his head. ‘I’m not too sure I…’

Noct sighs and drops his forehead against the keyboard of his laptop. The impact makes the screen rock.

‘You know when I said my dad was in like… diplomatic affairs, and shit?’ he says, rubbing at his eyes. ‘I mean, he  _ is _ … sort of. That’s… not the whole truth.’

Prompto gnaws at his bottom lip. He remembers Noct being a little evasive about it, when it had first come up. He had just figured his friend’s dad was into some classified stuff that Noct couldn’t discuss — especially not with a citizen of his nation’s former enemy.

‘You starting to figure it out?’ Noct asks, meek.

‘That was magic, right?’ Prompto says haltingly. ‘Like… legit, real-deal, rarer-than-chocobos magic?’

Noct nods.

‘I thought only members of the Lucian line could use it,’ Prompto continues.

‘Well...’ Noct says. ‘Yeah.’

‘So, what,’ Prompto says, shrugging. ‘You’re related to the royal family? Like… a distant cousin or something?’

‘Not... exactly,’ Noct says.

Prompto throws his hands up. All this tiptoeing around — he’s starting to get a headache.

‘Not  _ exactly _ ?’ he counters. ‘You either are or you aren’t, dude. What’s going on?’

He sees frustration flash across Noct’s face, and maybe a little resignation. With a shake of his head, Noct rubs at his eye and heaves a sigh.

‘Y’know what?’ Noct says. ‘Forget about it. I’m just bullshitting you. Catch you tomorrow.’

Prompto opens his mouth to protest, but the connection severs before he gets the chance. He’s left him staring at the black screen where the words  _ Call Disconnected _ light up in white, and all he has is more questions than answers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Prompto fails to communicate yet again, and Aranea drops some well-meaning pearls of wisdom.

There are fifteen tabs open on Prompto’s laptop, and all of them revolve around one thing: Noctis Lucis Caelum.

Turns out the last name he had given all that time ago was fake; there _is_ no Noctis Lucas, son of an enigmatic Lucian diplomat. Prompto can’t help but wonder what else has been fake in this years-long friendship of theirs.

It hadn’t been difficult to find him, of course, and for that Prompto can’t help but kick himself. Typing the words ‘Lucis royalty’ into Moogle netted the royal lineage on the very first page. He didn’t even have to click any links — there it was, clear as day, pictures and all: Noct’s father, the king, and below him the sullen face of Noct himself.

Noct isn’t just related to royalty; he _is_ royalty. Next in line to the throne.

Prompto’s still reeling from it, hours later. It’s funny the things you learn about your best friend when you bother to look them up on the web.

He feels sick, but he can’t seem to stop clicking through the tabs and poring over it all, devouring everything he can find. It’s like reading about a total stranger, yet every page has a picture of his best friend on it.

He rubs at bloodshot eyes and flicks a glance at the clock in the bottom corner of his screen. It’s one in the morning. Noct should be online again soon. Prompto’s not entirely ready to talk to him just yet.

He closes the lid of his laptop and sets it down on the floor, and for a while he stares at it as if the metallic shell of it might somehow hold the answer to all his problems.

When he climbs under the covers and shuts off the lamp beside the bed, his brain immediately devolves into chaos. He keeps running over what he should have said, over imaginary conversations with Noct where they argue about it, over all the memories of times where Noct must have either flat-out lied or omitted the truth.

He jolts upright, slamming his fist down on the mattress. He needs to get out.

He moves as quietly as he can, pulling on clothes and grabbing his keys. He keeps his shoes off, carrying them through the house until he’s at the door; once they’re on and he’s burrowed away within a jacket, he opens the door and slips out into the night.

It’s the middle of the week, yet he still has to shield his eyes against the headlights of oncoming cars.

He shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks. It’s more reflex than anything else — it’s starting to get chilly out this time of the year, but he hardly notices.

He keeps thinking of all the times he poured his heart out to Noct, of all the times he told him things he’d never dare tell another living soul. There were all the things Noct confided in him, too, and he can’t help but think with a pang of bitterness that so much of it was probably lies.

Groaning in frustration, he knots his hands into his hair and draws to a halt on the sidewalk, turning around aimlessly. He doesn’t know where to go any more. The thought of going home is too much, but he can’t keep wandering around this late at night, alone.

It feels like he’s going to explode if he can’t get his feelings out. If only he could turn to one of the strangers on the street, straggling home from the bar, maybe he could get this burden off his chest.

This walk was supposed to clear his head; when he finally turns back for home, he feels like he’s just made himself stew over it all the more.

He needs a distraction.

He knows it’s late, but Loqi’s been keeping even worse hours than him lately. When he passes an all-night coffeeshop he hijacks the WiFi and opens the messenger app; sure enough, Loqi’s online.

Noct’s name is probably somewhere on the screen, lit up and waiting, but he makes a point of avoiding looking at it and any messages that might be there.

 **_chocobuns:_ ** _hey dude. feel like refreshing me on what gralea’s nightlife has to offer?_  
**_l.tummelt:_ ** _Wait..._  
**_l.tummelt:_ ** _Somebody tell me you’ve been hacked because there’s no way I’m talking to Prompto Argentum right now._  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _haha yes, i get it, i’m a homebody_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _seriously. i need to blow off some steam. SOON._  
**_l.tummelt:_ ** _Well, getting shitfaced and grinding on strangers is one way to do it._  
**_l.tummelt:_ ** _I’m… kind of out of town this week._  
**_l.tummelt:_ ** _Long story. Don’t ask. There’s a new place opening next weekend though._  
**_l.tummelt:_ ** _Over 21s but I can totally get you in._  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _sounds good. i’ll see if i can get somebody to cover my shift. send me the details?  
_**_l.tummelt:_ ** _Sure thing._

Prompto logs out of the app and drops his phone back into his pocket. It’s over a week away, but if he has something to look forward to, maybe it’ll keep his mind off Noct.

It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.

* * *

He wakes bright and early at six, when the sun has yet to fully rise. He has every intention of rolling back over to sleep, but then he needs the bathroom, and when he gets into bed again all he can think about his Noct.

His dreams hadn’t exactly been restful; with a groan, he realises he’s probably not getting back to sleep any time soon.

His laptop hums quietly where he left it beside the bed, and for a moment he reflexively reaches out to open it, only to freeze suddenly.

Either he opens it and there’s a message waiting for him from Noct, which he’s not ready to deal with, or there’ll be nothing and Prompto will feel snubbed. It’s lose-lose. He’s better off not playing.

Still, he feels the pull of it, even as he grudgingly tugs on a comfy sweater and some pants and heads downstairs.

The scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen, rich and enticing. If he’s not getting back to bed, he might as well load up on caffeine.

‘You’re up early, shortcake,’ Aranea says, as he pads into the room, rubbing his eyes against the light.

He’d point out the hilarity of the statement when she’s in here too, already dressed and made up for work, but he can issue little more than a grunt by way of greeting as he trudges over to the coffee maker.

She’s kind enough to pour a cup for him and, as always, makes it to his specifications. The first sip alone is enough to make him feel more human.

‘Rough night?’ she asks, taking in his mussed-up hair and dark-ringed eyes with a hawkish stare.

He gives her a dark glance over the brim of his mug and seeks refuge on one of the stools at the island.

‘I forgot what a morning person you were,’ Aranea says wryly.

She reads the newspaper while she gets her dose of caffeine; he drums his fingers aimlessly on his knees in between sips. He knows he could take his mug back to his bedroom and cut the awkward silence short, but he can feel all of his hurt feelings about everything with Noct brimming over, threatening to burst out.

His throat is tight. That generally means he’s about to cry.

He clears it sharply and chases it with a mouthful of coffee, tossing it back so quickly it burns his mouth.

Aranea watches him over steepled hands from where she sits.

‘Everything good?’ she says.

He forces a smile and a nod, and for a minute it feels like he’s doing a convincing job.

‘Yep,’ he says.

Then, bit by bit, the facade crumbles away.

‘Okay, no,’ he blurts.

Her features almost reassemble into a knowing glance — _almost._

‘What’s eating you?’ she says.

It’s hard to know where to begin — which blanks to fill in, which to avoid. She knows how close he is with Noct, but she knows little else beyond that. She doesn’t _have_ an online presence, so she doesn’t know what it’s like.

Yet… he thinks of when he was a teenager and she had helped him through so many things she couldn’t possibly understand; when she had taken it all in with an open mind, never judging him, and she had somehow always found a way to make him feel better.

Prompto closes his eyes, heaves a sigh, then scrubs at his face.

‘Do you think it’s ever…’ he begins, looking up at her. ‘Like… okay to keep secrets?’

She watches him, warily.

‘My folks were both in the army,’ she says, pragmatically. ‘Secrets were kinda their thing. Never gave me much privacy growing up, though.’

He rubs a thumb over his chapped lips, glancing down at the table.

‘So,’ he says, ‘you don’t think it’s wrong to lie to somebody you care about? What if it was something kinda big?’

Aranea narrows her eyes and leans forward a little on the island.

‘Something you wanna talk to me about, Prompto?’

His eyes go wide and he shakes his head hurriedly.

‘No!’ he says. ‘It’s not… It’s not me. Just… if you found out somebody kept something from you, would you be upset?’

She’s still watching him intently, but eventually she lets up and settles back in her seat, sipping thoughtfully at her coffee. He can tell she’s probably trying to weigh up both sides of things. He’s a little scared he won’t like her answer.

‘Sure I’d be upset,’ she says, waving her hand. ‘Pissed, even. Depends on the secret. But there’s lots of reasons somebody’d keep something from you, and I think some are better than others. Like maybe they thought you were better off not knowing.’

Prompto smooths a hand through his hair.

‘Okay,’ he says.

She quirks one elegant eyebrow as she looks at him.

‘I hope that helped,’ she says. ‘If it doesn’t, and you need somebody to kick some ass, I’m here.’

At this, at least, Prompto manages a watery smile.

‘Thanks, Nea,’ he says.

‘Don’t mention it.’

* * *

**_nocturnal:_ ** _u up?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _we still on for tonight?_  
**_nocturnal:_** _it’s cool. some other time_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i understand if ur mad at me, but please just say something. ANYTHING._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _forget it.  
_**_chocobuns:_ ** _i just need some space._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto tries to take his mind off things, only for a string of text messages to ruin it all.

Prompto hangs back a little behind Loqi, hands fidgeting within the confines of his sleeves. Loqi had said the place was over 21s, and Prompto had done his best to dress up, but he barely looks his actual age on the best of days.

‘Calm down,’ Loqi says, turning to grip his arm with a pointed look. ‘You’re making yourself so obvious.’

Prompto makes a face, but he lets Loqi take the lead as the line moves onward, allowing his friend to sling an arm companionably around his shoulder.

‘You said you needed to blow off some steam,’ Loqi says. ‘What’s the occasion? Hit a rough patch with your mystery girl?’

‘Mystery girl?’ Prompto echoes, cocking an eyebrow.

‘You know,’ Loqi says. ‘The one you had that date with?’

_Oh._

Meekly, Prompto shakes his head, looking darkly down at his shoes.

‘Didn’t work out.’

‘Sorry to hear that,’ Loqi says.

When the line moves up a little, he guides Prompto forward.

‘Oh hey,’ he says suddenly, slipping his arm free. ‘I forgot to tell you, I’m heading back to school next year. Contemporary Art.’

‘Uh-huh?’

Prompto’s barely listening. With his eyes trained on the group ahead of them, he’s thinking of Noct — and that’s precisely what he came here _not_ to do. His friend has given him some space over past week, at least, but it had been so tough seeing his name online that he had resorted to unplugging from the web just to avoid it.

‘Hey.’

Loqi clicks his fingers in front of Prompto’s face, effectively snapping him out of it. It’s just irritating enough that Prompto’s momentarily distracted enough to scowl at him.

‘You’re here to get your mind off things, remember?’ Loqi says. ‘Can’t do that if all you’re doing is thinking about them.’

Steadily, the line progresses — much faster, at least, than the one for general entry. Prompto’s glad Loqi managed to get himself on the list; they’d still be near the back of the line otherwise. Before long it’s their turn, and the bouncer looks them over appraisingly. Prompto tries his best approximation of indifference, glancing around as if he’s bored.

At his side, Loqi gives a yawn as he pulls out his ID.

‘Loqi Tummelt,’ he says. ‘I’m on the list.’

The bouncer looks his clipboard over, scanning through the names. Wherever Loqi’s name is, he seems to be having trouble tracking it down — but then he files through his papers and lands on it, giving a nod.

He doesn’t even ask for Prompto’s ID; he just waves them in. It’s only once they’re safely inside that Prompto feels like he can breathe again.

‘There,’ Loqi said, as they shed their jackets at the coat check. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

The double doors leading through to the club are closed, yet they can barely restrain the noise from within — pounding bass seems to make everything vibrate, and Prompto can feel it underneath his feet.

When Loqi pushes the doors open, a wave of sound washes over them and it’s like a slap in the face. Prompto blinks at the neon lights flashing to the rhythm of the music, his brain trying futilely to make sense of all the colours and noise.

‘Drink?’ Loqi shouts, gesturing to the bar.

Prompto can only swallow and nod.

The crush of bodies is thick enough that they have to forcibly make their way through, and Prompto can’t help wondering how people can actually _want_ to be somewhere so busy.

They make it to the bar, somehow, in one piece — yet they have to wait for an opening in the crowd gathered around it, and again Prompto finds himself asking what’s so fun about a place like this. He could have bought himself a cheap bottle of vodka and some orange juice and gotten drunk in the privacy of his own home.

But then, he supposes, that’s the point — he would have been doing it alone, with little to keep his mind from wandering back to Noct. At least they didn’t have to pay a cover charge, thanks to Loqi’s connections getting him onto the list.

When they finally get close enough to order, they have to scream to make themselves heard. Loqi covers the first round, but Prompto can’t help noticing with increasing dismay that the bill his friend hands over is decidedly larger than the amount of change he gets in return.

Once his drink is in hand, Prompto hurriedly takes a gulp.

It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

‘This. Place. Is. _Awesome!’_

He and Loqi are in the VIP area — he doesn’t know how his friend managed it, but one minute Prompto had been wedged in by the bar, the next Loqi had been dragging him across the dance floor and up a set of stairs.

The place is full of Gralean celebrities: everything from reality TV stars to socialites with staggering trust funds. They’ve been dancing with the entourage of the eldest daughters of two of Niflheim’s top 50 wealthiest, and Prompto hasn’t thought about Noct _once._

Okay, except there. That totally doesn’t count.

He’s able, quite happily, to push Noct right out of his mind when Loqi shoves another drink into his hand, this one vibrant and sweet-smelling. It tastes like oranges and strawberries and about a dozen other fruits, all in a single mouthful.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes — he almost doesn’t feel it, what with everything going on around him. Lifting his drink to take a sip with one hand, he uses the other to slip the phone out of his pants.

With a lurch, he sees Noct’s name on the screen.

‘So what do you do?’

He looks up blankly at the girl in front of him, taking in her brightly made up eyes and vamp-red lips before it occurs to him that her words were meant for his ears.

‘E— Excuse me?’ he says, blinking.

She gives him a patient smile and puts a hand on his wrist.

‘What do you _do?’_ she says. ‘Are you an actor?’

He opens his mouth to answer, but before he can get the words out Loqi is at his elbow, smooth as butter as he replies in Prompto’s place.

‘Model,’ Loqi says. ‘We’re both models. Editorial, mostly.’

At this, her eyes widen with interest. She leans a little closer to Prompto, and he’s sure she’s probably going to give him the perfect opening to try to pick her up, but his thoughts haven’t left the phone and Noct’s name on it.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he blurts, before she can say anything.

He turns away, leaving Loqi and the girl staring after him.

It’s hard to find a quiet spot in this place, but he manages to wedge himself into a corner far enough from the noise to have a moment to think. He sets his drink down on the table and picks his phone up, cradling it in both hands as his thumb hovers over the screen lock.

He takes a deep breath, then swipes it open.

_i know u need space. and that’s ok. i respect that. i just_

_i miss you like crazy. i hope i didn’t fuck up our friendship over all of this_

_i’m so sorry._

The noise of the club is too much all at once, the heat of so many bodies crammed into one space suffocating him. He feels his throat constrict, and when he shuts off his phone’s screen and stuffs it back into his pocket he just sits with his hands clenched in his lap, letting the music — so loud he can hardly pick out the lyrics — wash over him.

Tonight was supposed to be about forgetting Noct, so why is it that all he wants to do is rush home to talk to him?

It hurts, he realises. That feeling he’s been ignoring, that niggle of discomfort in his stomach, is pain. Now that he finally acknowledges it, it festers and spreads until it feels like there’s a hole in his chest.

He needs to get outside. _Now._

He abandons his drink, standing up and marching for the stairs leading out of the VIP lounge. He’s dimly aware of somebody calling his name — Loqi, probably — but he doesn’t stop.

‘Dude! Prompto!’

He pauses, finally, in the middle of the floor at the coat check; the woman attending it glances up from her book, then returns her attention to it once more.

‘Where are you going?’ Loqi says as he bursts in, a little out of breath. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘I just… I gotta get out,’ Prompto says, with a feverish glance towards the door. ‘I’m sorry I’m bailing.’

Loqi doesn’t look disappointed, just worried. When Prompto turns for the door, Loqi catches up and puts a hand on his shoulder.

‘Your jacket?’ Loqi says.

‘Oh. Right.’

The woman behind the counter only pays him enough attention to return his jacket; as he slips it on, Loqi looks at him as though he’s at a loss.

‘Everything cool?’ he says, once Prompto has his jacket zipped.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto says, carding a hand through his hair. _‘Yeah._ I just think I figured something out.’

Loqi lets him go and watches, nonplussed, as Prompto goes.

‘See you, dude,’ he says, with a confused little wave. ‘Good luck, I guess?’

* * *

It only dawns on Prompto that he’s drunk when the cold air hits him as he steps outside; from there, it’s an unsteady, wavering trek to the subway station to catch one of the last trains of the night.

It feels like everybody’s having a good time when he passes them, and all the while he can’t seem to shake the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He almost wants to be mad at Noct for putting him into such a tailspin, but he can’t — not when all he wants to do is spill about how much he’s missed his friend, too.

He sits reading the messages over again on the train, casting a glance from time to time at the route indicator with vodka-induced paranoia in case he should happen to miss his spot.

 _I miss you like crazy_ , Noct had said. Just reading the words makes Prompto feel nauseous and anxious and — somehow, unbelievably — giddy at the same time.

There are still four stops left when he forces himself to power off his phone and put it away for good, but as he closes his eyes to rest them against the bright lights of the train, he keeps seeing Noct’s words as though they’re imprinted across the backs of his eyelids.

 _‘Now arriving at PROVIDENCE SQUARE,’_ the automated voice announces.

With a jolt, he jumps to his feet and waits by the doors, slipping out the moment they’re open.

He’s not running, not exactly. It had been his intention to get some air and clear his head, after all, yet he had found himself heading for home as if that had been his intention all along; now that he’s close, he quickens his pace, and even though he’s not _running_ he’s damn sure making good time.

The lights are off when he gets in, but the kitchen still smells of coffee, so Aranea’s home. He almost doesn’t care as he hurries upstairs, still in his jacket, and heads into his room.

His laptop is off for once; the upside of not speaking to Noct all week has been that his poor overworked machine has had some time to recuperate. When he jabs the power button, it takes entirely too long to come to life, the fans whirring precariously once it does.

‘C’mon,’ he mutters, as it stalls on the home screen.

He tries clicking on the messenger app, but that only seems to exacerbate matters and he has to sit, drumming his thumbs impatiently on the edge of the case, while he waits.

When the messenger finally pops up on screen, he hovers over Noct’s name, ready to click, before hesitating. After a moment’s thought he navigates to video chat and dials his friend with little care for the fact that it’s still early in Insomnia and Noct probably hasn’t yet showered, and _he’s_ a sweaty, ragged mess after partying for the past few hours.

There are some things better said face to face.

The app dials, and dials. He checks back to be certain that Noct is online and, sure enough, his name is lit up in green. He knows he could hang up, could try again in the morning when it’s not quite so early in Insomnia, but the thought of going to bed without speaking to his friend makes him feel even more sick.

He’s about to give up hope when the video window opens up and Noct’s face fills the screen.

The room is lit up around him, sunlight streaming in from off-camera and giving his friend an odd, washed-out look. Prompto thinks there’s something gaunt about Noct’s face, like maybe he hasn’t been sleeping. That makes two of them.

Wetting his lips, Prompto takes a deep breath.

‘I got your message,’ he says. And then, when he realises what a poor greeting it makes, ‘Hey.’

Noct rubs at his eyes, groggy and somehow impossibly adorable in spite of that fact, his dark hair all mussed up at odd angles. When he drops his hand, he’s silent for a little while as he looks into the camera.

When Noct finally chimes in it’s just one word, but the sound of his voice again after a week without it — and Prompto could swear it’s been longer, because every day of silence has felt like months — gives Prompto a little thrill of pleasure.

‘Hey.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	6. Chapter 6

It seems like all either of them can do is just sit, staring at one another, across thousands of miles and a supposedly high-speed internet connection on either end.

Now that he has Noct here, now that he can say anything and everything that’s been on his mind, all words seem to have gone from Prompto’s head; at least any of the ones that matter.

‘I went to a new club tonight,’ he says. ‘With Loqi. Pretty sure I danced with one of the chicks from _Young, Beautiful & Insanely Rich_, or whatever it’s called.’

Noct snorts and splits into a grin, and just like that it feels like the old days again — like the past week never happened, like Prompto has his best friend back.

He can’t ignore it, though — can’t act like the pain is gone. As if the same thought has crossed Noct’s mind, the grin readily slips away.

‘I’m sorry,’ Noct says.

Prompto looks down at his laptop, at the weathered WASD keys with the letters all peeled away. A couple days ago he had wondered if he’d ever need them again; the thought of gaming without Noct had been too much to bear.

‘I know,’ Prompto murmurs.

‘Like, really, _really_ sorry,’ Noct says. ‘Like I know it’s gonna take me a _lot_ to come back from this.’

Prompto swallows as he takes his friend’s words in. There’s nothing he’d love better than to put this all right and go back to how things have been, but even in his relief over hearing Noct’s voice again he feels a pang of discomfort in his gut.

‘Why didn’t you just tell me, man?’ he asks, looking up at the screen.

There’s a little delay in the feed, so he catches Noct hurriedly glancing away before their eyes can meet. In that brief, fraction of a second, his friend’s face is somber.

‘I thought about it,’ Noct replies. ‘When we first hit it off, I thought about telling you everything. Then I got scared because everybody treats me different when they realise, and I didn’t wanna screw up what we had.’

Prompto is silent while he listens. It sounds like a poor excuse, but then he guesses anything would when he’s on the receiving end. He runs his finger over one of the chocobo stickers on the surface of his laptop, where the edge of it has begun to peel away.

‘You knew you were gonna have to tell me someday, though, right?’ Prompto says.

Noct sighs. For a long time he just lets his head drop back against his pillow, and an image pops unwarranted into Prompto’s head of a video chat, months earlier, when Noct had passed out while they were talking.

He can’t even imagine thinking differently of Noct, having been told the truth. Even now, he’s upset that Noct lied, but the revelation itself means very little to him. So his best friend is royalty — next in line to the throne. That’s a little… weird, he’ll admit. But he doesn’t think it changes who Noct is, really.

‘Honestly, I thought you’d find out yourself,’ Noct says, shrugging. ‘See me plastered all over the papers or something.’

Prompto grimaces at the thought. He’s seen how bad it is for famous people; even at the club, there had been a handful of paparazzi waiting outside as he burst out onto the street, and they had perked up at his sudden appearance only to simmer down once they realised he was a nobody.

‘It’s really that bad?’ he says.

Noct barely shrugs.

‘You get used to it,’ he replies. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. You just convince yourself it doesn’t bug you so much, or you go nuts.’

Prompto thinks he’s starting to understand it: the doubt that must have been in the back of Noct’s mind all the while. He had felt something like it, too, when he had finally met somebody that he really clicked with — the worry that something would happen to ruin it, or that Noct would turn out to have been using him, like so many of his friends over the years.

When he thinks about it, they’re not all that different. They both just want somebody they can be themselves with.

‘I know I can’t make it better just like that,’ Noct says. ‘And I know it’ll take you a long time to trust me again. But I’ll do anything to prove that I’m sorry. _Anything_.’

‘I don’t know if there’s anything that can just make it go away,’ Prompto says. ‘You really hurt me, dude.’

Noct doesn’t quite seem to know what to say in reply; he looks away, staring at something off-screen, then focuses back on Prompto once more.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘But I promise — from now on, no more lies.’

Prompto moves his hand off the sticker and rests it in his lap.

The room still spins around with him at the centre of its axis, but Noct’s words have brought him some clarity. He had gone out with Loqi ostensibly to clear his head, but now that he’s sitting here, weaving where he sits, breath stinking of alcohol, he realises what he had been waiting for.

All he wanted was for Noct to fight for him — to show that he felt their friendship was _worth_ fighting for.

‘I hated it,’ Prompto admits. ‘Hated not talking to you. I was pissed, but not too pissed to feel relieved when you texted me first.’

He’s embarrassed to say it out loud, but the cocktails have loosened his tongue. Even as his cheeks flood with heat, he forces himself to look at the screen, at Noct — at the prince of Lucis, _his best friend._

‘I thought maybe you’d block my number when you saw my name,’ Noct says, with a sheepish grin. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. Is it pathetic that I’ve felt so empty all week because we haven’t been talking?’

Prompto sighs and drops his head back against the rail of the bed behind him.

‘Me too,’ he murmurs.

Neither of them speak for a while, and it crosses Prompto’s mind that this is probably the first time they’ve had nothing to say to one another — that this is the first silence that hasn’t felt natural.

‘I’m drunk and I’m tired,’ Prompto says, rubbing at his aching eyes. ‘I’m gonna get some sleep.’

‘Okay,’ Noct replies.

Whether he sounds a little disappointed or not, Prompto can’t quite tell.

‘Talk tomorrow?’ Prompto suggests.

‘You sure you don’t still want some space?’

Prompto thinks about it, long and hard.

Space had seemed like such a good idea at the time, if only because he couldn’t get his own thoughts straight about everything. After a week of trying so hard not to think about Noct that it just made him think about his friend all the more — after a week of dragging himself through his day-to-day routine with the hollow, weary feeling that nothing had any meaning any more — he doesn’t think he could do it again.

‘No,’ Prompto says. ‘I’ve had enough space. I just want things to be the way they used to be.’

* * *

He feels lighter the next morning, like a burden has been lifted from him. Maybe it’s getting the best night’s sleep he’s had since this whole mess came up — maybe it’s not spending every waking minute worrying about whether his friendship with Noct is over.

Even Aranea notices the change in him when he heads downstairs, and even though he’s groggy from the last vestiges of expensive liquor in his system, he’s in a good enough mood to offer her an actual _Hey_ this morning instead of his usual nonverbal grunt.

‘Have a good time last night?’ Aranea says.

Prompto shrugs and opens the cupboard, rifling around on the lower shelf. When he finds what he’s looking for — sweet pastry pockets, filled with ulwaat berry jam — he brings them to the toaster and slots them in.

‘It was okay,’ he says noncommittally. ‘Not really my scene, but it’s hard to have a bad time with Loqi around.’

He’s ninety-five percent sure Aranea’s eyebrow is arched behind his back when she replies to him.

‘He sure knows how to party…’

He doses himself with caffeine while he waits for the pastries to cook, leaning his hip against the edge of the countertop.

‘He’s calmed down,’ Prompto says, pausing to think his words over. Maybe _calmed down_ is the wrong phrase. ‘I mean, he still goes off but like… mostly just at weekends now.’

Aranea gives him a look, her smirk conveying more than a hint of disbelief.

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she says.

Behind him, the toaster pops. He grabs a plate, loads it with his sugar- and carb-infused breakfast and moves to perch himself at the island.

‘You seem like you’re in a better mood today,’ Aranea says. ‘Did you… figure things out with that friend?’

Prompto freezes, his pastry halfway to his face, mouth wide open ready to bite into it.

‘Uh… What friend?’

He doubts she could roll her eyes harder if she tried; she flicks her hair out of her face and looks at him levelly over the brim of her coffee.

‘Heard you last night,’ she says. ‘ _Tried_ not to, but you get loud when you’re drunk.’

Meekly, Prompto munches into his food while his cheeks burn. He’d thought he’d managed to keep his voice down — maybe he got a _little_ over-excited.

‘Sorry,’ he says, through a mouthful of pastry.

She doesn’t seem bothered, though, as she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head with a shrug.

‘If it means you’re done with the moping,’ she says, ‘I’m happy for you. Just try to keep it down if you’re gonna be up all night playing that stupid game with him again.’

He’s a little embarrassed, sure — but he’s smiling as he swallows his food and takes another bite.

* * *

Auriel Duskwalker crouches beyond the walls of the Imperial fortress of Baal’car, blending in with the bushes she’s chosen for her hiding spot. She knows that if any of the archers above were to look closely, they might see the flash of steel, the glint of moonlight on the grapple in her hand.

She goes unnoticed, however, and she continues to wait, biding her time. When the dark clouds pass over the moon, obscuring its light, she knows the moment has come.

She lifts her grapple, swinging it and attaching it to the wall far above with a carefully aimed throw. Once it finds its home on the crenellations, she gives the rope a tug to make sure it’s hooked fast.

She walks up the wall, her strong arms primed for just such physical toil by years of fending for herself on the mean streets of the capital. She barely breaks a sweat as she makes her way to the top, ducking in flush against the stonework to keep from being seen by the passing patrol.

It’s just three archers in rotation on this wing of the fortress, if her intel is to be believed. Handling them should be a breeze, but she doesn’t allow herself to get cocky as she creeps up a little higher to the edge of the parapet.

Softly, she whistles.

There’s a muted exclamation of surprise from above; she hears footsteps clink across the stone, and she tilts her face upwards, holding her breath as a dark figure looms overhead…

With one yank of his collar, he goes tumbling off the wall, plummeting to the ground below.

She takes out the second and third archers in similar fashion, and once the coast is clear, she ducks and pads silently along until she reaches the turret in the corner.

It’s easy enough, working her way through the fortress undetected; after weeks of fighting huge, powerful monsters of mythical might, she revels in a return to her roots in stealth. She even manages to keep enemy casualties at a minimum as she finds her way to the gate controls and winches them open.

There are cries of alarm from within the fortress walls, but it’s too late — the rebel army is already on its way, her faithful companion Terricus among them.

* * *

**_nocturnal:_ ** _dude, u killed it today_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _nailed it (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _and ur so humble too…_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _i’m a man of many qualities, my dude_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _(－‸ლ)_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _so… i understand if this is the last thing u wanna think about rn_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _but do u think u’d still wanna see about meeting?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _like… face to face_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _oh_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i get it, still need to work to get back ur trust_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _no i mean_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _honestly? been thinking about it a little too_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _just figured since you’re, y’know, heir to a literal kingdom…_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _might not be so feasible_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’m not a prisoner lol_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _there’s vetting and junk but. totally doable_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _i… kinda blew my savings on drinks with loqi. not all of it but like… a lot_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _see that’s the thing_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _u really think i’m gonna let u pay to come see me?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _well i mean how else am i gonna get there? stow away?（’へ’）_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _(◔_◔)_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _dude_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i can cover u_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _hahaaaaa_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _that’s cute, but nope_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _why not (ง'̀-'́)ง_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _it’s not a problem_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _dude. no. i’m not letting you pay for my flights._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’ll pay for a rowboat then. whatever. just get ur ass here._  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _noct. no._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _well then I’ll come to u_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _…_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _what_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _take a couple weeks off and i’ll come and u can show me round_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _i can’t tell if you’re joking_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’m not._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _just… think about it, ok?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’ve got some ~official state business~ coming up but i could totally make it over for winter_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _seriously?_  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _yep. say the word and i’ll make it happen._

Prompto’s heart pounds as he reads back over the conversation and tries to come up with the right response. He had been so sure his friendship with Noct was over; now they’re talking again about visiting each other — about Noct coming here, to Gralea.

Prompto brushes his fingers over the keys while he thinks, weighing it all up.

 **_nocturnal:_ ** _u don’t need to answer right away. take some time and think._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _if this year doesn’t work, there’s next year. or whenever._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _i’m not going anywhere_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _dude_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _okay. do it._  
**_nocturnal:_ ** _u mean it?_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _yeah_  
**_chocobuns:_ ** _i mean it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	7. Chapter 7

Prompto isn’t pacing.

That’s what he tells himself when he turns around for the hundredth time at the pillar by the edge of the waiting area and starts walking across to the far side. He’s not pacing — he’s keeping his circulation going.

It’s been months since they finalised Noct’s plans to come visit, and Prompto has been counting down every day since. So yeah, maybe he  _ is _ pacing — but it seems unfair that they’ve already waited so long for this day, only to have to wait just a little longer.

The terminal is busy, as he had expected it to be so close to the winter festival; he has to dodge around crowds of people coming and going, and every time he glances toward the arrivals board there’s some flight coming in that isn’t the one he’s waiting for.

He checks his phone  _ again,  _ and he knows that Noct’s is probably off but he still can’t help feeling antsy that there’s been no word.

A voice chimes in over the PA system announcing a delay on a flight’s arrival; the sound is garbled, and he can barely hear it. When he looks over at the arrivals board he sees that Noct’s flight has been rerouted.

His phone buzzes in his hand; when he checks it, he groans.

_ had to reroute cuz of fog. waiting for the shuttle to take us to the aerodrome now D: _

Prompto taps his foot impatiently. He just wants Noct here already. Every minute’s delay feels like a precious moment of quality bonding time snatched from their hands.

_ gotta love that niflheim winter! i can sit tight here for another little while. totally worth it. _

His response might be upbeat, but he’s a little dejected as he taps the edge of his phone against his lip and looks around the aerodrome, trying to think up something to do.

He could eat, but Noct will probably want to grab something by the time he gets here. He didn’t exactly bring much spending money to throw away on duty-free, either. He could sit and play games on his phone, but the standard issue plastic seats provided are murder on his back.

He’s not-pacing again — okay,  _ totally _ pacing — when he spots something sitting innocently at the edge of the duty-free area; it might just be the perfect way to kill time.

* * *

_ we’re here!!!! _

It’s two words, but it’s enough to have Prompto springing up out of his awful, uncomfortable plastic seat and sprinting toward the shuttle terminal outside. It’s a little difficult, what with his new friend in tow, and he’s all gangling, frantic limbs as he rushes out into the cold late-morning air.

He doesn’t even notice the icy wind beating against his face as he marches toward his destination.

He spots Noct first — standing at the terminal, stretching up on his toes to look around. There are two tall men to either side of him, and Prompto recognises them as Ignis and Gladiolus, Noct’s two closest advisors.

Still weird to think that his friend has  _ advisors. _

It’s with ruddy cheeks and wind-swept hair, and holding a big stuffed Moogle won from the claw machine by duty-free, that he barrels his way through the crowd toward Noct.

He’s a few strides away when he sees Noct’s advisors tense and react to his proximity, readying themselves for an impending attack. Noct, however, takes off at a sprint towards him and they meet halfway, flinging their arms around each other.

Prompto’s pretty sure they’re making a scene, but that doesn’t stop either of them from spinning around in a circle, laughing in glee.

‘Highness.’

The voice is curt and accented, far more regal than Noct could ever claim to be. When Prompto looks up, the man with dark blonde hair and glasses — Ignis, Prompto recalls — has reached them, and leans in close to speak candidly.

‘Perhaps this isn’t the place,’ Ignis says, with a subtle cough.

When they stop for long enough to look, Prompto glances around to find they’ve attracted something of a crowd.

‘Specs is right,’ Noct says. ‘Wanna get outta here?’

‘Sure,’ Prompto says.

With a little space between him and Noct, he can straighten himself out. He lifts the stuffed Moogle and thrusts it into his friend’s hands.

‘For you,’ he says.

Noct wears a lopsided grin as he takes the Moogle and clutches it tight.

‘Where’s the rental car place?’ he asks, looking over at Ignis.

The man is busy speaking softly on his phone; he doesn’t answer. When he finally hangs up, he gestures toward it where it connects to the aerodrome.

‘Might I suggest you keep your hood up for the time being,’ Ignis says quietly, ‘at least until we’re somewhere more… discreet?’

With a nod, the prince pulls his hood up to hide his face and they set off together.

‘Got a surprise for you too,’ Noct says, while the walk. ‘Not so sure it matches up to what you got me, though.’

They’re comfortably close, and it feels like it could be just a normal day between them — like they walk side by side all the time, exchanging banter. If it weren’t for the tingling warmth in Prompto’s chest that only seems to spread the longer they spend together, he might not know the difference.

‘Oh, dude,’ Prompto says. ‘I  _ love _ surprises. What is it?’

Noct chuckles; behind them, Prompto can hear one of the other men give a sigh.

‘Nope,’ Noct says. ‘You just gotta wait and see.’

* * *

The rental car is probably the nicest thing Prompto has ever driven in, and he’s almost afraid he’ll spoil the interior just by sitting on it. He knocked the dirt off his shoes almost obsessively before he climbed in, and he sits now in the back with his hands neatly on his lap, eyes roving over the little flourishes that make the car extra fancy.

There’s a panel inlaid into the back of the driver’s seat ahead of him; he pushes the button expecting it to be a tray table, but when it glides open there’s a touch screen there, which lights up and gives a welcoming chime.

‘Whoa,’ he breathes, prodding experimentally at the video app on the screen. It takes him into a vast selection of movies and TV shows, all ready to stream at his convenience.

‘I know, right?’ Noct says.

Prompto expects the prince to say that it’s the sort of luxury he’s used to, but when Prompto looks at him he has a big old grin on his face like it’s the stuff he only ever dreams of.

‘Do be careful with that,’ Ignis says from the driver seat.

Prompto feels a little like a kid caught sticking his hand into the cookie jar. Diligently, he pops the case shut and returns his hands to his lap.

‘Sooo,’ he says, glancing sideways at Noct. ‘You gonna give me a hint about this surprise?’

Noct gives him a look, but he throws his hands up in defeat nonetheless.

‘Fine,’ he replies. ‘All I’ll say is I hope you’re hungry.’

Prompto narrows his eyes suspiciously. If they’re going for lunch, it’s not much of a surprise — something gives him the feeling that there’s more to it. He’d push Noct further, but his friend is already looking out the window, taking in the sights.

To Prompto, Niflheim is just home: boring and familiar. It’s easy to forget that as drab as the scenery on the way back from the aerodrome is for him, it’s all a novelty to the prince.

‘Sorry Niflheim isn’t exotic or exciting,’ Prompto says with a sigh. ‘You could totally be vacationing in the sun right now.’

This is enough to draw Noct’s attention from the view — he looks at Prompto on the level, prodding him gently in the arm.

‘I don’t care where I am right now,’ he says, ‘long as I’m with you.’

* * *

The ‘surprise’, as it turns out, is lunch at the anime café in central Gralea. Prompto has walked past the place so often he’s lost count, silently wishing that he could go in someday, but with waitlists longer than he is tall, he’s never entertained the idea.

Somehow Noct got them a reservation — but then he’s the crown prince of Lucis, so maybe that’s not such a surprise.

He stares up at the front of the building for a little while, hardly able to believe his luck; after a moment, an unfamiliar voice draws his attention down to street level. Gladiolus is talking with a man of about middling height, mostly nondescript in his dark clothes and sunglasses. Prompto is about to ask Noct who he is when it suddenly dawns on him.

He keeps his lips sealed until they’re inside; it’s only once they’re being led to their table by the hostess that he turns to Noct and hurriedly whispers in his ear.

‘Dude,’ he says. ‘Do you have, like… security with you?’

Noct gives a roll of his eyes.

‘Yup,’ he mutters. ‘Pain in the ass. They keep back, mostly. Less conspicuous that way.’

Noct had lifted his hood once more when they got out of the parked car. Now that they’re safely indoors, he tugs it down and pats his hair to neaten it.

‘I know it’s kinda weird but you’ll forget they’re there after a while,’ he says.

At least the security detail doesn’t come into the café — Prompto feels like he’d be too nervous to eat if he had them standing around in their impenetrable shades and impeccably tailored jackets. As it is, Ignis and Gladiolus are in attendance, and even though he’s painfully aware that they’re still here for Noct’s safety, it’s a little easier to pretend they’re just Noct’s friends.

Well — he reminds himself that they  _ are _ Noct’s friends, too. They just happen to be trained to protect him in the event that he’s in danger.

While they wait for their orders, Noct takes him to the gift shop. It’s full to bursting with merchandise, and it’d probably be overwhelming if Prompto didn’t have Noct’s presence to distract him somewhat.

‘Holy shit,’ Prompto blurts, as he spots a selection of limited edition  _ Hey! Sunshine  _ metal lunch boxes on display on one of the shelves. They’ve been sold out pretty much since they were released, in spite of his best attempts at snagging one at release, and there’s just a handful of them sitting there.

‘You want one?’ Noct says.

Just like that — like the price tag isn’t in well into the triple-digits. Prompto flushes at the mere thought of his friend throwing away money like that on him.

‘That’s okay,’ he starts to say, but Noct hurriedly shakes his head. 

‘I wasn’t here for your birthday,’ Noct says, ‘and it’s almost the Winter Moon festival. My treat, seriously.’

Prompto has a feeling Noct won’t take no for an answer, and even as the thought crosses his mind, the prince heads for the shelf and starts looking through the designs on display. He picks out the one with the lead character and her pet chocobo, as though he knows it’s the one Prompto would want.

Of course he does.

Prompto’s skin prickles with heat as Noct tucks it under his arm. He only flushes all the harder when Noct takes his arm and leads him around to look at the other displays.

By the time they make it back to the table, they have quite a haul between them. Prompto’s is decidedly more modest than Noct’s, but he picked something out in secret that he thinks his friend will like.

Their order is already waiting for them and Gladiolus is halfway through his burger with little care for etiquette; Ignis, meanwhile, sits sipping delicately at a can of Ebony.

‘I can’t freaking believe we’re here,’ Prompto says, slipping into his seat.

He ordered a bento-style dish inspired by  _ Hey! Sunshine _ and he decides it’s almost too cute to eat as he looks down at the cute animal faces staring back up at him.

‘I’m glad I got to bring you,’ Noct says with a grin. ‘There’s a couple places like this in Insomnia, but they’re pretty boring if you aren’t with friends.’

‘Yeah,’ Prompto says, lifting his glance to meet the prince’s.

Even if he’d managed to get here someday — somehow got his name on the waitlist, and coughed up the entry fee — he doesn’t really have anybody he’d go with. He’s glad he got to come here with Noct.

He gives his friend a bashful smile before turning to his food, picking up a rice ball and popping it into his mouth.

* * *

Prompto peers around the door of his house before he even thinks about letting Noct in. The place looks tidy, at least, although he spots some dirty dishes by the sink that he didn’t think about clearing before he left this morning.

‘It’s okay, dude,’ Noct says. ‘It’s just me.’

But it’s not just him — it’s Ignis and Gladiolus, and even though they seem like they’re probably nice, they intimidate Prompto a little. Ignis, especially, makes him feel like a hick with his fancy accent and even fancier clothes.

They wouldn’t even  _ be _ here if Prompto hadn’t got over-excited and spilled his iced coffee all over himself. Noct has been here for a few hours and already Prompto’s made himself look like a jackass.

Reluctantly, Prompto pushes the door open and lets them file inside.

‘You can hang up your coats there,’ Prompto says, gesturing to the rack by the door. ‘I’ll just go get changed real quick.’

He’s halfway to the staircase when he hears Aranea’s voice ring out, low and laconic, from the living room; instinctively he winces and freezes in his tracks.

‘That you, Prompto?’

She appears at the door, and her eyes take him in first — the coffee stain down the front of him, the flushed pink cheeks — and then move to the entryway where the others stand. Between the three of them, they make what has always been a comfortably roomy space feel modest in size.

‘Aranea,’ he says. ‘I didn’t realise you were home.’

She shrugs. Gestures behind her, toward the pile of paperwork littering the coffee table.

‘Heating’s out in the office. I work better when I don’t have frostbite.’

Prompto opens his mouth to introduce the others, but Ignis denies him the chance. He steps forward with an apologetic smile, inclining his head slightly.

‘Apologies for the intrusion,’ he says. ‘We’ll be here but a moment.’

Aranea waves him off.

‘No problem,’ she replies. ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’

Again, Prompto opens his mouth — this time to refuse — but Noct gets there first.

‘That’d be great,’ he says, cutting across Prompto before he can speak. ‘You’re Aranea, right?’

Aranea nods and steps forward; Prompto expects her to greet Noct first — maybe to bow a little, like you’d expect somebody to act around royalty — but she has her eyes on Ignis.

‘Aranea,’ she says, extending her hand.

‘Ignis,’ he replies as he takes it. ‘A pleasure.’

It’s as if they’re the only two people in the room, and even though Noct is the one visiting him, and this trip is about the two of them getting to spend time together, Prompto can’t help but feel as though he’s intruding somehow.

‘Uh, that’s Gladiolus,’ he says, gesturing across the room to the other man, where he gives a wave. ‘And Noct. Uhh. Prince Noctis.’

‘Just Noct,’ his friend replies, once Aranea finally steps away from Ignis long enough to give the others her attention.

She shakes his hand, and Gladiolus’s in turn, but it isn’t long before she’s glancing back at Ignis, her gaze keenly taking him in.

‘Security’s a little light for the heir to the throne, isn’t it?’ she drawls.

‘Ah, yes,’ Ignis replies, with a glance toward the window. ‘Don’t be alarmed if you notice a certain… presence outside your home. It’s merely protocol.’

Aranea shrugs and turns for the kitchen. If she’s fazed by the arrival of royalty in her home, she makes no show of it. Prompto can’t even claim to be surprised; she’s dealt with so much in her line of work, she doesn’t have time to be starstruck.

‘So what’s everybody having?’ she asks. ‘We’ve got a little of everything.’

Her voice drifts off as Prompto continues on his trek upstairs; he hears Ignis’s polite reply, and the rumble of Gladiolus’s voice. He’s tempted to ask Noct if he wants to come up to his room since they’ll be staying awhile, but when he glances back his friend has already headed into the kitchen.

He doesn’t have to spend long picking out something to wear, at least — a shirt Noct bought him from the gift shop serves as a suitable substitute, and he grabs the first pair of jeans he finds to trade for the coffee-stained pair. He doesn’t waste long in getting ready and hurries back downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

The little island in the centre of the kitchen is crowded: Gladiolus looks almost comically large on his stool, while Noct perches casually beside him. Prompto isn’t surprised to see Ignis next to Aranea, helping her with the drinks.

‘Soda?’ Prompto asks, opening the refrigerator. When Noct nods, he tosses him a can of cola, grabs one for himself, and takes a seat beside him.

It’s still odd to see Noct around — walking down the streets of his city, sitting in his kitchen. He fights the urge to pinch his friend to see if he’s real and settles for throwing an elbow gently into his side.

‘Anything you wanna do today?’ he asks.

Noct shrugs and pops the top of his soda.

‘I’m kinda beat,’ he says. ‘Thinking of maybe heading back to the hotel and watching some movies or something, if you wanna come with?’

Prompto nods his head eagerly.

‘That sounds awesome,’ he replies.

He’s beaming as he takes a sip from his drink. He watches Aranea over the brim of the can where she stands chatting companionably with Ignis, and whatever he says in his low tone is enough to make her burst out with a bark of laughter.

As if synchronised, he turns to give Noct a look, just as his friend does the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	8. Chapter 8

They’ve been watching movies for four hours now, and it’s not late by either of their standards — but Prompto was up early, and Noct skipped most of his previous night’s sleep to offset the time difference. When Noct blearily asks if Prompto wants to watch something else, the mere thought of it makes Prompto’s brain ache with exhaustion.

‘We can get up early and do stuff tomorrow,’ Prompto suggests.

It feels like a waste of the last hours of their first day together to simply sleep it off, but they’ve done a lot — even if so much of that was spent watching movies together  _ in person _ , instead of over an internet connection.

‘I guess,’ Noct says reluctantly.

With a sigh, Prompto slips out of the covers. It’s not that it’s cold, thanks to the fancy suite’s comfortable temperature, but it’s certainly less cosy than snuggling up underneath a mountain of blankets.

He’s hunting around for his jacket when Noct sits up on the bed.

‘You going? Iggy can drive.’

Prompto shakes his head.

‘Nah, dude,’ he says. ‘I feel a little weird being chauffeured around by your staff. I can probably make the subway before the next train.’

Noct gives him a look, and he knows it — even if he’s only seen it on a computer screen before. It’s the look that says Noct isn’t going to back down.

‘He’s not  _ staff, _ ’ Noct says, ‘he’s my friend. And he’s totally happy to help. I’m not letting you walk all the way to the subway.’

Prompto chews his lip. It’s a sweet offer, and Ignis has been nothing but polite to him since they met, but it feels a little too much like taking advantage of him. Friend or not, Ignis is Noct’s advisor — it just doesn’t feel right.

‘I dunno…’

Noct budges over to the edge of the bed and peers up at Prompto, and it’s hard to tell whether the puppy-dog eyes he’s making are  _ actually _ working, or whether it’s all the warm and fuzzy feelings from finally getting to spend some time together, face-to-face.

He’s  _ almost _ considering agreeing when Noct perks up suddenly.

‘Dude,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you stay here?’

It seems like such a simple solution that Prompto wonders why he hadn’t thought of it, but then he’d never have been the one to suggest it. Secretly, he’s a little glad Noct did.

‘Okay,’ he says, probably a little overeager. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

* * *

It’s a bad plan, in a lot of ways, as he discovers after lying awake for the better part of two hours excitedly talking to each other in the dark. Even when they finally find themselves too drowsy to speak, and Prompto drifts off, his sleep is terrible.

Between sharing a bed with somebody new, worrying that he’s going to snore or drool on the shoulder of the  _ actual crown prince of Lucis, _ or being overcome by bouts of excitement over the whole thing, he keeps waking himself up. His dreams aren’t exactly restful, either — one about being trapped at an airport waiting for a plane that never arrives; another about losing Noct in a crowd in the middle of the city.

When he wakes up to go to the bathroom, he knows he’s not getting back to sleep any time soon.

Noct, at least, seems to be peacefully asleep, sprawled out on his stomach, one leg kicked out of the blankets. For a little while Prompto watches his shoulders gently rise and fall; something about seeing Noct like that, perfectly content — and here, at long last, close enough to touch — makes Prompto’s chest ache.

He silently climbs out of bed and tiptoes across the plush carpet, carefully letting himself into the en suite bathroom.

It’s hard not to be dazzled even by the bathroom in this place, with a tub that looks like it could fit two comfortably, a huge walk-in shower, and something Noct called a ‘bidet’. Prompto is already anticipating the shower he’s going to take in the morning, with the water turned all the way up, while he empties his bladder.

Noct’s still asleep when he gets back; he’s careful to be quiet as he grabs his phone from the nightstand and slips back into bed, ducking his head under the covers so that the light of the screen doesn’t wake his friend.

He hasn’t updated social media since Noct got here, but he doesn’t even know what he’d say. Aside from letting a few friends know that he’s got a buddy visiting, it’s not like he can tell anybody that Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum has come to stay for a couple weeks. He doesn’t even  _ want _ to tell anybody; in a weird way, it feels like it would spoil it somehow.

He scrolls through all the usual feeds, idly hitting ‘like’ on anything that catches his eye, only to jolt when he scrolls past a picture of himself.

Noct must have taken it at the anime café — Prompto’s looking off to the side, up at one of the servers in cosplay, a big grin on his face. He looks like a little kid, just about dying from excitement. He flicks his eyes downwards, to the caption.

_ What’s the point in having a best friend if you can’t spoil him? #sunshineboy _

He gets that achey feeling again, and for a little while he just sits and looks at the picture, wondering if this is how Noct really sees him.

_ Sunshine boy. _

He leaves a like on the photo, but it feels like a pale representation of how he feels. Even when he closes out of the Pix app and opens his email, he’s still thinking about it.

A notification swipes down from the top of the screen — a weather alert. All he sees is the word  _ snow _ , and it’s enough to have him climbing out of bed once more, hurrying as quietly as he can to the window.

He nudges the heavy drapes outside, poking his head between them; sure enough, the city is liberally blanketed in the stuff, turning the miserable grey of the urban sprawl into a winter wonderland.

He’s not bothering with stealth any more — he rushes over to the bed and drops to his knees beside it, shaking Noct’s shoulder.

‘Noct,’ he whispers, when the prince doesn’t stir. He shakes him again, a little more urgently. ‘Noct!’

Noct mumbles lightly in his sleep, something about finishing a report, and it’s only when Prompto shakes him again that he finally blearily opens his eyes.

He looks around in confusion, taking in the sight of Prompto as if he doesn’t recognise him, then promptly closes his eyes once more. 

‘Go back to sleep,’ he murmurs.

Prompto feels bad waking him up when he looks so sleepy, but — well, it’s the first snow of the year, and Noct always complains that he’s never seen  _ real _ snow.

‘Dude,’ Prompto whispers. ‘It’s  _ snowing. _ ’

Noct cracks one eye just enough to give him a look of disdain, but maybe something in Prompto’s expression convinces him that this is worth getting up for, because he lifts his head and casts a glance toward the window where the drapes are still parted.

He grumbles, but he gets up anyway and lets Prompto lead him by the wrist across the plush floor, where Prompto throws the drapes wide for him to see.

Prompto sees the prince shield his eyes against the brightness of the street lamps outside, then slowly drop his arm to look. His reaction is slow at first as he steps up closer to the window, then his jaw and eyes go comically wide.

‘Holy  _ shit, _ ’ Noct says.

He dashes away from the window before Prompto can say anything, snatching his clothes up from the floor and yanking them on. It’s only once he starts pulling his shoes on that it finally, blearily dawns on Prompto that he means for them to go outside.

‘I don’t even have a coat,’ Prompto says.

Noct has an answer for that, of course — he pulls open the closet and grabs a couple heavy coats, thrusting one of them into Prompto’s hands.

They slip through the hotel as quietly as they can, moving down deserted hallways that have yet to see even the morning staff. The dimly lit walkways add a certain moody ambience that seems to contradict their giddiness as they rush on tiptoe toward the exit.

There must be a security presence around, yet Prompto has seen nothing of it, and nobody attempts to stop them as they head across the marble floors of the lobby and leave through the glass double doors.

The hotel opens out onto its own plaza, complete with a glittering fountain of marble. When they had arrived by day the place had been a spectacle in itself: lush green grass and seasonal topiaries, ornamental ponds with quaint little wooden bridges to cross over them. Now, covered in thick, powdery snow, there’s a strange stillness to the place.

‘This is incredible,’ Noct says.

He turns his face up toward the sky, letting tiny, fluttering flakes of pure white hit his skin as he closes his eyes.

Watching him, Prompto can’t help but grin. He knows they’ll pay for their little nighttime excursion in the morning when they’re bleary-eyed, but for now — totally worth it.

In the quiet of the night it’s easy to forget there’s a busy city beyond the gilded gates of the hotel and an escort of guards within earshot, ready to protect their prince at the slightest sign of a disturbance.

It’s just the two of them, alone: two best friends from opposite sides of the world.

It’s subtle, really — the change that goes through Prompto. He’s watching Noct stare about in wonderment with his hands turned upwards to catch the snowflakes in his grasp when he feels it: a dull pang in his chest that only seems to deepen as Noct turns to him, cheeks rosy pink from the cold.

His friend is quiet, and steadily Prompto watches the smile slip from his lips.

Noct’s hair is dusted with snowflakes; the dark strands of it catch the light with each step he takes. He stops in front of Prompto, close enough to touch, and Prompto feels his heart pick up an erratic beat for reasons he can’t quite comprehend.

‘Close your eyes,’ Noct murmurs, so soft that his voice barely disturbs the muffled silence.

Prompto doesn’t question it; he shuts his eyes and waits, and he’s not even sure what he’s waiting for but he damn well isn’t going to refuse.

He hears the crunch of Noct’s shoes through the snow; realises with a little frown that his friend has stepped away. Still he keeps his eyes closed. He thinks he can’t hear Noct any more, and he wonders if maybe his friend is gone — retreated back to the warmth of the hotel, who knows — and even so something compels him to keep his eyes shut.

Something collides with Prompto’s chest, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and when his eyes open in surprise he’s just in time to see Noct sprinting off in the other direction.

Prompto knows even before he looks down that there’ll be a burst of white splattered across his chest —- sure enough, there it is. He dusts the snow off and, without missing a beat, stoops to gather up a handful of the stuff for himself. 

Noct already has a head start and he’s surprisingly fast, but not fast enough that Prompto can’t catch up; Prompto’s first throw is perfectly aimed and hits the prince in the back of the head, sending snow tumbling down the collar of his coat.

‘Ugh!’ Noct shouts in disgust, swatting at his back; his distraction allows Prompto enough time to grab another snowball.

This one misses Noct by an inch as he ducks down to gather up more snow, and Prompto’s so busy laughing that he lets Noct’s shot hit him square in the face.

It  _ hurts. _ A lot. So much that Prompto has to touch a hand to his mouth to make sure that it’s not blood that he feels dripping down his chin.

Noct’s face is contorted with dismay, and it’s then that Prompto realises he hadn’t meant for such a direct hit — Prompto can’t even be mad, though, and he’s soon dropping to his haunches to scoop up snow in retaliation.

It’s a short but brutal battle; Noct grows short of breath before long in the cold, and Prompto can barely keep a hold on his own for all the laughing.

‘Truce?’ Prompto says, between bursts of laughter.

Noct gratefully nods and drops to the ground, parking his backside right in the snow. Without a care, Prompto flops down beside him.

‘This is gonna sound weird,’ Prompto says. ‘But it… kinda feels like you’ve been here my whole life.’

He almost expects Noct to turn and tease him for being cheesy, but instead the prince simply nods.

‘Yeah.’

Prompto drops his head against Noct’s shoulder and feels Noct lean against him in turn; they sit like that in comfortable silence, while the snow falls around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	9. Chapter 9

Prompto pats his stomach and gives a contented sigh. He’s already eyeing up the leftovers on Noct’s plate — the scrambled egg he barely touched, the slices of toast. Noct seems to sense his predatory gaze and pushes his plate over with a wry little laugh.

‘You’re welcome to it,’ the prince says. ‘I’m still full after dinner last night.’

Prompto can already feel himself filling out after the excess of the past few days, with no chance — or motivation — to hit the weights. That doesn’t stop him from happily shovelling a forkful of egg into his mouth as soon as it’s put in front of him, though.

‘So I’m thinkin’,’ Prompto says through his mouthful of food, ‘me and Nea are planning a little thing for Winter Moon together. I figured maybe you and the guys could come over, if you didn’t already have plans.’

He plays it low-key, fully expecting to be shot down — sure, Noct is here to see him, but Winter Moon is supposed to be for family. He had already been surprised enough that Noct wanted to come visit during the festival, rather than spend it with his father.

‘I’d love to,’ Noct says immediately.

Prompto feels silly for ever doubting.

‘So what do you wanna do today?’ Noct says, spinning the napkin ring on the table in front of him. ‘We can chill out here some more, if you want.’

Prompto snorts. As fun as it’s been living like they don’t have a care in the world, this marks his third morning in a row at the Imperial with Noct. He’s about ready to start taking the prince out to see some of what Niflheim has to offer.

‘I might have something planned,’ Prompto says mysteriously. ‘I thought I’d go grab Aranea first, though, if that’s cool?’

* * *

The car isn’t exactly small, but the backseat is a squeeze with Gladiolus crammed in there, too. It had been some attempt at chivalry from Ignis — ‘Can’t very well ask a lady to wedge in back there, can we?’ — and even though Prompto doesn’t mind being sandwiched between Noct and the door, Gladiolus is in something of a mood because of it.

Prompto can’t exactly blame him; the guy has to sit with his knees tucked up against the back of the chair in front of him, even though Aranea has it pulled forward.

‘Ignore that,’ Prompto hears Aranea say, as the GPS issues directions. ‘You’ll be stuck in traffic for a half hour if you’re lucky. Take this road instead.’

Their party still don’t know where they’re going — although Aranea had shared a knowing smile with Prompto when she had seen him key in the address — and Ignis, while striking Prompto as the sort to enjoy being in control, has been more than happy to go along with it, with Aranea there to encourage him.

‘I’ll defer to your judgement,’ Ignis says.

In the rearview mirror, Prompto sees Ignis glance at Aranea. It’s the first time since Noct and his retinue arrived that he seems genuinely at ease.

With the help of the GPS and Aranea’s careful input, they find their way through the city. It’s still early in the day, so the parking lot is barely half full; Ignis finds a spot near the middle and they all bundle out, tugging their jackets on as they go to guard against the cold.

‘So,’ Noct says, looking around. ‘Where are you taking us?’

Prompto gestures toward the path leading through a thatch of trees, and as he marches forward with Noct at his side, the others trail along behind.

‘You’re gonna love it,’ Prompto insists. ‘Promise. I’ve been planning this since you booked your flights.’

It isn’t long before the trees give way to a vast open area, one of the few green spaces left in the city. For three-fourths of the year it’s just a regular park, but in the winter it’s repurposed as part of the festivities; it’s all lit up by string lights and neon snowflakes, and in the very centre there’s a fenced-in area already filled with people — young and old, single and coupled off — milling around in various levels of expertise.

‘Is this an ice-skating rink?’ Noct says.

Prompto wishes he had his camera ready just to capture the precise moment that the realisation dawns on his friend’s face, and the glint that comes to his eyes. Noct already surprised him by treating him to a visit to the anime café; now it’s  _ his _ turn.

‘Yup,’ Prompto says. ‘You ever been?’

Noct shakes his head. His eyes are still on the rink, following a little girl as she zips around on the ice as though it requires no skill at all. She spins, her long red curls whipping about her face as she goes, and gives a peal of laughter as her father catches up to her and scoops her up into his arms.

‘S’cool,’ Prompto says, grabbing the edge of Noct’s sleeve and tugging him toward the booth where they’ll pick up their skates. ‘I’ll talk you through it.’

If anything, it should be Aranea showing Noct the ropes — she’s good at almost everything she sets her mind to, from skating to martial arts — but as soon as they hit the ice she turns her attention to the others, laughing bawdily as Gladiolus wobbles while straining to keep his footing.

Noct’s not so bad for a beginner, Prompto finds. Still, he’s a little uncertain as he goes, and after his first stumble he grips on tight to Prompto’s elbow, letting Prompto lead him around.

‘It’s a lot to get used to at first,’ Prompto says. ‘Aranea used to bring a bunch of us every weekend during winter and I fell flat on my ass every time until she helped me figure it out.’

He carefully detaches Noct’s grip from him and takes his hand instead, letting him have a longer leash as they move side by side. Noct’s got the movement down, at least — it’s just the balance that he seems to have trouble with. He’s actually pretty good.

‘You’re not so bad,’ Prompto remarks, narrowing his eyes. ‘You sure you haven’t done this before?’

Noct’s too busy staring down at his own feet to reply at first; he only seems to realise Prompto’s talking to him when Prompto tugs gently at his hand.

‘I swear,’ Noct says. ‘My dad made me take classical dance for a couple years, though. I  _ guess _ it’s kinda like—’

His voice cuts off as he loses his footing; for a horrible moment the world seems to move in slow motion as Prompto clutches tighter onto Noct’s hand and swoops in close, catching his other arm to keep him upright. For a little while they stand still, neither of them daring to move, and Noct grips Prompto as if pulling away even slightly would result in disaster.

It’s there again — that  _ feeling. _ Like Prompto just wants to wrap Noct up and make sure nothing can ever hurt him again. Noct is twenty years old; legally an adult. It’s not as though he can’t look after himself. So why is Prompto’s heart pounding so hard?

Noct’s eyes turn back down toward his feet and slowly, steadily, he pulls away, moving tentatively. Prompto’s almost glad for the chance to catch his breath.

‘You should, uh,’ Prompto says, clearing his throat. ‘You should try not to keep watching your feet. It’s a little easier if you don’t.’

Reluctantly, his friend lifts his glance upwards, seemingly picking random points in the distance to focus on. As Prompto leads him forward by the hand, Noct’s chin keeps jerking downward as though he’s fighting the urge to look. It’s the first time Prompto has really seen him uncertain of something — as though he’s not used to having to learn something afresh.

An idea pops into Prompto’s head — an awful idea, probably, although that realisation doesn’t hit him until he’s already putting it into action.

He slides forward, taking Noct’s left hand in his and moving his right down around Prompto’s waist, as he’s seen couples do on the ice before. Maybe treating it like dancing will help Noct get the hang of it. In turn, Prompto slips his arm around Noct’s shoulder, pressing his hand to the back of Noct’s neck.

‘Just keep your eyes on me,’ Prompto says, with a timid smile. ‘Pretend we’re doing a waltz or something.’

It’s easier said than done — unlike the prince, Prompto hasn’t had any classical training, and the forward momentum of the ice adds a certain element of urgency to it all — but after a few moments of taking tentative circles together, Prompto sees Noct begin to relax.

‘There,’ Prompto says. ‘It’s not so bad, right?’

He hazards a glance downward. Noct’s feet are already moving as if of their own accord, his muscles slipping into the routine reflexively. Prompto tries his best to keep up, letting Noct lead the way.

When he looks up again, Noct’s watching him, his brow furrowed just slightly. There’s something in his expression that makes Prompto’s stomach flip nervously.

‘So, uh,’ Prompto says with a self-conscious cough, glancing away. ‘What do you usually do for Winter Moon?’

He feels Noct reposition his hand against his back; feels the reassuring weight of it even through the layers of clothes that separate them. He’s suddenly glad that he’s wearing gloves so that Noct can’t feel the sweat that’s cropped up on his palms.

‘There’s a bunch of formal stuff to do each year,’ Noct says flatly. ‘My old man addresses the people, and I usually have to say a couple words. We pre-recorded it this year so that I could come here.’

Prompto can’t help but snort at the thought of it — an entire nation waiting for Noct to mumble out some scripted speech, probably with no knowledge that it isn’t live. He can’t help but wonder if they even know that their future ruler isn’t in the country.

‘Sounds pretty boring,’ Prompto says wryly.

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Noct says with a shrug. ‘We have dinner together — the two of us, Gladiolus and his family, Ignis and his uncle. It’s been that way for years.’

To Prompto, it sounds nice — and not all that different from how things used to be for him. Years before he moved in with Aranea, she and the other case workers would host a dinner for all the kids like him, with bowling before and an unofficial movie screening after. For just a few hours it had felt like having a real family.

‘You think I’ll ever get to meet your dad?’ Prompto teases. ‘Or do I need like… top-level clearance to get an audience with the king?’

Noct makes a face.

‘I’d say it’s not like that, but  _ I’m _ lucky if I can get an audience with him sometimes.’

There’s a tiny bit of bitterness in his voice — just enough that Prompto gets the feeling he should change the subject — but Noct’s apparently already thinking the same thing.

‘Whenever you come visit, you’ll get to meet Gladio’s little sister, too,’ he says. ‘She’ll  _ love _ you.’

Prompto can’t help but grin at the thought of it: of meeting everybody in Noct’s life. Maybe it won’t happen anytime soon, but it’s nice to think that next year he could be spending Winter Moon in Insomnia, letting Noct drag him around and show him the city all done up in lights.

‘So she’s nothing like her brother?’ Prompto teases.

As if on cue, there’s a grunt from Gladiolus himself; they both look over to see him falling flat on his back as Aranea and Ignis look on in horror. When Ignis reaches out a hand to help him up, he brushes it off irritably.

‘He’s not always like this,’ Noct says, although he doesn’t sound entirely convinced. ‘I think he’s trying to impress Aranea.’

Prompto watches as Gladiolus rights himself on his feet once more and rubs at the back of his neck while Aranea checks in on him. His complexion is too dark to see any sort of blush on his cheeks, but Prompto knows that if he were in the guy’s shoes, he’d be beet red right now.

‘He can keep trying,’ Prompto says, ‘but I don’t think he’s got much of a chance.’

When he looks back to Noct, his friend is grinning wryly at him.

‘You see it too, right?’ Noct says, dropping his voice conspiratorially. ‘Iggy and Aranea?’

Prompto shrugs.

‘There’s  _ definitely _ chemistry,’ he replies. ‘I’m… kinda surprised. Nea’s all “I don’t have  _ time _ for a boyfriend”.’

When he glances back, Aranea has her hand on Ignis’s shoulder, demonstrating a move on the icei. If Prompto didn’t know better, he’d say she’s leaving it there a little longer than she needs to.

‘It’s funny,’ he says. ‘How it happens like that.’

‘Yeah,’ Noct murmurs. ‘Where you least expect it.’

Prompto looks back to him, but Noct’s already glanced away; his attention is on his feet once more. Prompto thinks maybe his friend’s cheeks are flushed, but he tells himself it’s just the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell with me on social media! [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	10. Chapter 10

The window ledge is already thick with snow when Prompto glances towards it. Since the first flurries picked up an hour ago, it only seems to be getting heavier by the minute, and he’s glad for the heater Aranea dragged down from the attic, currently blasting at full-temperature in the middle of their little gathering.

‘Can I get you guys a refill?’ Aranea says, nodding towards the mugs on the coffee table.

They’ve been having her own special brew of hot chocolate — cocoa, vanilla, and a splash of peppermint cream liqueur. Prompto’s already feeling lightheaded, but he nods for another when Noct does, too.

‘You wanna come help?’ Prompto asks, nudging Noct’s knee.

The kitchen smells delicious, the scents of chocolate, vanilla and mint intermingling with the coffee that still lingers from Ignis’s coffee earlier. Prompto’s already anticipating even more mouthwatering smells in the air when Aranea starts cooking tomorrow; his stomach growls at the thought of it, in spite of the takeout pizza they’ve been gorging on all evening.

‘Whoa,’ Noct mutters, looking down at the time on his phone. ‘It’s been tomorrow in Insomnia for like… nine hours. Still can’t get used to the time difference.’

Prompto grins and tips his fist gently against Noct’s side.

‘Happy Winter Moon,’ he says.

Noct snorts.

‘Focus, boys,’ Aranea says, thrusting mugs into Prompto’s hands. ‘You’re on dish duty. His Highness can help me boil the milk.’

Aranea has barely known Noct for days, but she’s been treating him just like any of the kids she works with; her  _ Highness _ es are always followed by a wry little smirk.

They make a mess of the kitchen as they brew the next batch, and the mugs — and Noct’s and Prompto’s hands alike — are covered in sticky syrup and liqueur as they pass the drinks over to the others.

‘We should head back after this,’ Ignis says, his glance flicking almost imperceptibly to his watch. ‘I don’t trust the roads to remain clear for much longer.’

‘Got a shovel if you need it,’ Aranea says dryly. ‘You learn your lesson after the first couple years.’

Prompto sinks into his seat on the couch next to Noctis, tipping his head against his friend’s shoulder.

The warmth of the heater, the glow of the little star lights hanging around the room, the flickering of the seasonal candle sitting in the window with everybody’s gifts piled up on the floor beneath — it’s all so cosy, so comfortable. Winter Moon has always passed without incident since he and Aranea started celebrating together, but this is the first year that he wants to make the most of it, especially with Noct here.

Gladiolus interrupts the stillness with a loud, piercing yawn, like he just can’t quite seem to hold it in as he stretches his arms out over his head. Everything about the guy exudes presence — at first, Prompto had found it intimidating, but he’s got a pretty sharp sense of humour. They even got to chatting about books at the diner after their time at the skating rink, before Noct had suddenly interjected about a movie release he was looking forward to.

‘Drama queen,’ Noct says, picking up one of Aranea’s small sequin-covered cushions and tossing it at Gladiolus. It hits him square in the chest, cutting his yawn off abruptly.

‘Some of us aren’t night people,’ Gladiolus protests, tossing the cushion back where it lands harmlessly in Noct’s lap. ‘Think your old man knew what he was getting into when he called you  _ Noctis _ on your naming day?’

Prompto perks up.

‘Naming day?’ he echoes. ‘What’s that?’

Noct sighs, shaking his head as he does so often whenever some Lucian tradition comes up.

‘It’s a thing in my family,’ he says. ‘Superstitious crap. Back in the good old days before medicine was a thing, you didn’t name your children until they survived the first six months. So, naming day. It’s still, like… bad luck if you pick a name out before your baby’s born.’

‘Wait,’ Prompto says. ‘So you… didn’t have a name all that time?’

Noct wrinkles his nose.

‘Nope,’ he says. ‘And then my dad announced it to the world. There was an official photograph in the papers and everything.’

‘Probably still a copy floating around in the archives,’ Gladiolus says, mischief twinkling in his eyes. ‘Maybe we can dig out it out when we get back to Insomnia.’

Noct glares daggers at Gladiolus, and Prompto has the distinct feeling that there might be bloodshed soon.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Noctis says, his voice low and threatening.

Prompto’s mind wanders back to the mention of his friend’s dad — and how he hasn’t heard anything of his mother. He knows it must be hard, when Noct’s mom died shortly after he was born. It had been a long while before his friend had opened up about it, and even now it’s like Noct manages to artfully avoid touching on the subject before it ever comes up.

Carefully, Prompto snuggles in closer to Noct’s side.

‘We should go, Highness,’ Ignis says, setting his mug aside. ‘Unless you intend to fall asleep and have us  _ carry _ you.’

‘Doesn’t sound too bad, when you put it that way,’ Noct says.

Prompto’s reluctant to let his friend go, and Noct seems even more hesitant to budge from his spot. While Ignis and Gladiolus potter about gathering up their belongings, the prince seems content to sit right where he is.

‘Noct,’ Ignis says primly. ‘There’ll be time enough for you to spend together tomorrow.’

Noct’s just pushing himself up with a petulant sigh when an idea dawns on Prompto; he grips the back of Noct’s shirt before he can get very far.

‘Why don’t you stay over?’ he says. ‘It’s not like either of us are getting to sleep anytime soon.’

It doesn’t seem like Noctis needs much convincing as he looks eagerly at his retainers.

‘We’re here to protect you, Noct,’ Gladiolus says. ‘Can’t protect you if we’re miles away in a hotel.’

Prompto watches a stubborn streak come over his friend. It’s not quite princely — Prompto doubts Noctis puts his mind to official business with such fervour — but it’s hard to dissuade him when he gets like this.

‘I’ve got like half the Crownsguard outside, Gladio,’ he says. ‘I think I’ll be okay.’

There seems to be some silent battle of wills going on; Prompto sees Gladiolus exchange a glance with Ignis, who heaves a sigh.

‘The prince manages in his apartment without us to keep an eye on him,’ Ignis says thoughtfully. ‘And he  _ does _ have a point. Dustin wouldn’t let anything happen under his watch.’

Finally, reluctantly, Gladiolus gives in — Noct gives a little pump of his fist in triumph.

‘Don’t hesitate to call us,’ Ignis says. ‘For any reason.’

Ignis hugs Noct; another comes from Gladiolus. It’s the first show of real affection Prompto has seen between them — the first time he’s really seen them not only as advisors, but as  _ friends. _

‘Drive safe,’ Aranea says, once they’re bundling out the door. ‘Try to avoid the underpass. Tends to get pretty bad with the snow.’

Noct waves as the others leave; once at the car, Ignis turns back to him with a stern look upon his face.

‘And don’t stay up too late,’ Ignis says. ‘ _ Highness. _ ’

* * *

Noct’s in one of Prompto’s t-shirts, and it’s probably the most adorable thing Prompto has ever seen. There’s a cactuar printed on the front, wearing a fake moustache; Noct had spent a good minute laughing at it when Prompto had produced it from his wardrobe.

‘I’m sorry we don’t have, like, a proper guest bed or anything,’ Prompto says, patting the flimsy mattress of the pull-out couch.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ Noct says brightly. ‘Can’t be worse than camping with Gladio.’

Prompto gives an unrestrained snort and hurriedly covers his face, freezing as he listens for Aranea’s grumble of complaint at being woken. When the coast is clear, he lets out a little chuckle and flops into the bed, burrowing away under the covers.

It isn’t long before Noct settles in beside him, tugging the covers up over himself until only a sliver of his face is visible.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Prompto says with a sigh. ‘A year ago I never thought we’d meet for real.’

‘Hey,’ Noct says suddenly, sitting up. ‘Since it’s after midnight, you think it’d be okay if I gave you one of your gifts?’

Prompto doesn’t have to think for long; he springs out off the bed and heads for the pile of presents, hunting through them until he finds the one containing the item he picked out at the anime café.

‘Would you grab the one on the left?’ Noct says, pointing. ‘The envelope?’

With both presents in hand, Prompto retreats to the couch, slipping back into the warmth of the covers.

‘You go first,’ Noct blurts.

Prompto eyes his gift up uncertainly. He had figured it was probably a gift card or something when he first spotted it. He opens it carefully, wary of tearing anything important; there’s a card with a winter scene of their  _ Sword of Destiny  _ character, Auriel and Terricus, posing together in the snow.

‘Did you…’ Prompto says, tilting the card toward the lamp by the couch to get a better look. ‘Did you get  _ fan art _ of our characters?’

‘There’s more,’ Noct says. He’s practically bouncing with anticipation. ‘Open it.’

_ Auriel, _

_ We’ve made a great team these past few years. I can’t imagine raiding dungeons and battling hordes with a finer companion. _

_ Here’s to our next adventure — meet you at the edge of the world! _

_ Terricus _

There’s a little laminated card tucked inside it, printed with a screenshot of their characters fighting alongside one another as the sunset turns the sky blood-red. On the back there’s an alphanumeric code — a key of some sort, with the words ‘Platinum Access’ printed above.

‘What is this?’ he asks, glancing hesitantly at Noct.

The prince looks like he’s about ready to explode.

‘Why don’t you go to the website and check it out?’

Prompto practically drops everything in his haste to grab his laptop from the floor beside the couch; he’s not sure who, out of the two of them, is more excited.

When he keys in the code on the product registration page, a message pops up and he has to read it twice before he can make sense of it.

_ Thank you for purchasing  _ Sword of Destiny 2: Gaia’s Dusk!  _ As a Platinum Access member, you are entitled to join the alpha release, available 56-12-21 thru 57-2-15. Please click the link below to launch the client and preload the beta. _

‘Dude,’ Prompto says. ‘That’s  _ tomorrow. _ This game isn’t out until like… fall.’

Noct’s grinning so hard it’s infectious; he leans across Prompto’s shoulder and hurriedly clicks the  _ Download Now _ button.

‘I know a guy who knows a guy,’ Noct says, smirking evasively. ‘The alpha launches in the morning so we can play together, right here.’

Prompto barely pays attention to the download progress that pops up on the screen; he picks up his gift for Noct and thrusts it into his friend’s hands. It’s lumpy and awkwardly-wrapped, but he did his best to disguise its real shape.

‘It’s not a download code for a game or anything,’ Prompto says sheepishly. ‘But I think you’ll like it.’

Noct tears into it; as he opens a gap at the top, a pair of pale blue, fluffy ears pop out. Prompto sees Noct’s eyes widen as he opens the rest of the wrapping to reveal the Carbuncle plushie inside.

‘You told me your dad gave you a little Carbuncle doll when you were recovering after your accident,’ Prompto says, self-consciously scratching the back of his neck. ‘He’s one of the GFs in the Triple Triad anime, and I always think of you when they summon him.’

Noct’s quiet for so long that Prompto can’t help but run through a dozen feelings, from anticipation to worry. Does his friend hate it? Did he touch on something a little too close to home?

When Noct looks at him, he doesn’t say anything; just flings his arms around Prompto and hugs him so tightly it squeezes the air from his lungs.

Tentatively, Prompto slips his arms around Noct’s waist, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. His heart’s pounding so hard that he’s almost afraid Noct will feel it.

Noct is a little shaky as he pulls back, a little too quick to look away. He sniffs loudly, scrubbing hurriedly at his face; where he had held Prompto before, he cuddles Carbuncle in his arms now.

‘We should get some sleep,’ he says gruffly. ‘Iggy’ll kill me if I’m not up bright and early.’

With a sigh, Prompto nods. Much as he’d like to stay up all night until the alpha comes online and play together, tomorrow will be better if they’re actually  _ awake _ for it.

He leaves the download running, setting his laptop aside, and carefully places Noct’s card on the end table beside the couch. He still can’t believe Noct actually commissioned fan art of their characters together; that would have been enough of a gift by itself, even without the game.

With the lamp shut off, they huddle in under the covers, face to face, dim moonlight streaming through the blinds onto their makeshift bed. Noct rests Carbuncle in between them, tucked in just like they are, and Prompto can’t help but grin.

‘I’m so happy I met you, dude,’ Noct says. 

His hand bumps Prompto’s thigh, and they both giggle nervously; after a second try, he finds Prompto’s fingers and twines them between his own.

Prompto tries to think of something suitably momentous to say, but the sight of Noct in front of him chases any words away. That tightness — that pang in his chest that seems to keep coming back — makes it feel like he might throw up, and he’s not even sure if it’s a bad thing.

They have another week together, but Prompto doesn’t want Noct to go — not in a week, not in a month, not  _ ever. _

In front of him, he hears Noctis swallow, hard.

‘G’night,’ Prompto murmurs. He feels like he has to fight to keep the waver from his voice.

Noct nods curtly.

‘Yeah. Goodnight.’

The springs squeak impossibly loud beneath them as Prompto rolls over, putting his back to Noctis. It’s a little cold facing this way, and he has to curl up to keep warm.

A hand touches his hip tentatively, hitting a bare patch of skin. Prompto wonders if Noct can feel the shiver that goes through him; wonders if Noct’s aware of what he’s doing as he slips his arm around Prompto’s middle.

Prompto’s breathing is all uneven and awkward, and he’s sure that Noct can hear it. When he tries to still it, he can hear Noct’s coming out just as shallow as his own. He wants desperately to try to put words to the thoughts rushing through his head, but when he opens his mouth a lump forms in his throat, holding his voice fast. 

Prompto knows, with more certainty than he’s ever felt in his life, that he’s not getting a wink of sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, screaming internally, the entire time I was writing this chapter: AHHHHHHHHHHIFSDJIGFSDHGIFHDGILHDFSGILHF
> 
> _Just kiss already._
> 
> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	11. Chapter 11

It’s been a long while since Prompto woke up on Winter Moon morning so full of unrestrained excitement.

He can still remember the very last time, when his mom had kept all traces of the festival from the house as though she had forgotten about it entirely, and he had emerged crestfallen into the living room to find no presents waiting for him.

When he had turned to her in surprise, she had suggested he play outside, and he had wandered moodily out into the snow only to find a bike waiting for him, shiny and new.

There had been other presents, hidden around the house; she had made a game out of letting him find them all. He had been too caught up in his excitement to notice how pale she had been, how she had struggled to keep up with him on his feverish scavenger hunt.

When he stirs awake this morning, the first thing he notices is Noct curled up beside him, his head all but buried under the covers. He feels a burst of affection in his chest at the sight of him, but that feeling is soon overwhelmed by the realisation that today’s the day.

It’s still dark out, and he doesn’t even care that it could be five in the morning; he spent enough hours fitfully staring up at the ceiling —  _ trying _ not to watch Noct sleep — to have to wait around even longer. He turns to his friend, leaning in close to his ear, and gives his shoulder a shake.

‘Wake up, dude,’ he whispers. ‘It’s Winter Moon!’

He should know better, by now, than to try to rouse Noct from sleep. He’s grouchy enough in the mornings when he wakes by natural means, without being woken before he’s ready; it’s a little like playing with fire. Still, Prompto continues to shake Noct’s shoulder until he blearily blinks open his eyes, glancing grouchily around.

‘I hate you,’ Noct grumbles, ducking his head into his pillow so that his voice is muffled. ‘I literally hate you.’

Prompto’s too excited to care, though; he hops up out from the covers and clambers over Noct where he lies, all but stumbling over to the pile of gifts. Everything is there, waiting for them: Aranea’s stuff, Prompto’s, even the gifts from the guys to Noct. Prompto grabs as much as he can, all but dumping it on top of Noct before moving to pick up more.

‘Shouldn’t we…’ Noct lifts his head, his hair sticking up all over in the moonlight. ‘Maybe wait until everybody’s here?’

Prompto just about resists the urge to pout. He’d fight his friend for it — and it crosses his mind that maybe he’ll have to — but then he spies Noctis leaning over across his side of the bed to where his laptop lies on the floor.

‘Alpha’s up in forty minutes,’ Noct says when he sits back on the bed once more. ‘That’ll kill some time.’

Prompto gives a childish little sigh, but he knows Noct is right. Grudgingly, he picks up the gifts from their heap on the bed and moves them back to their rightful spot on the floor.

‘You hungry?’ he says, scratching his head. ‘We can make pancakes.’

* * *

With the heat running, the kitchen’s comfortably warm; they have yet to shower so they putter about in their night clothes of slouchy t-shirts and underwear. It’s not like there’s anybody to see them — Aranea won’t be up for another hour at least.

Prompto lingers at the opening of the fridge, glancing through the contents of it; he feels Noct come up behind him, uncannily close, and for one dumb, delirious moment Prompto thinks Noct’s going to slip his arms around him.

He doesn’t; peers over Prompto’s shoulder instead, and points to a banana sitting on one of the shelves, its skin a mottled brown.

‘Banana pancakes,’ Noct says, matter-of-fact. ‘Trust me. You’ll never look back.’

Between them, they grab everything they need and a considerable amount more, filling up most of the countertop with their supplies. There are eggs to be broken and flour to be sifted, and then there’s the matter of how they make their pancakes differently in Insomnia, which leads to a miniature argument about which style is better.

‘I’m sorry,’ Noct says, ‘but you haven’t lived ‘til you’ve had Iggy’s pancakes. Best cold remedy  _ ever. _ ’

‘We do the first batch your way,’ Prompto suggests. ‘But then  _ I’ll _ show you how it’s done.’

Noct bumps his hip; Prompto bumps him right back.

What soon becomes apparent, above all, is that they should not be left unattended in a kitchen together. It isn’t long before there’s flour everywhere, coating every surface, the floor, even their legs — there’s even powder in Noct’s hair, and Prompto plucks at the strands, laughing gleefully.

‘This is a disaster,’ Prompto says between giggles.

Noct’s leaning against the counter; they’re standing real close, and Prompto’s still got his fingers in Noct’s hair, trying to dislodge the flour. When Noct looks at him, it’s like a suckerpunch to the gut.

‘I don’t know,’ the prince says. ‘Not  _ all _ bad.’

‘What are you boys doing to my kitchen?’

Just like that, the spell is broken; Prompto drops his hands to his sides and turns to Aranea where she stands at the doorway, his cheeks burning as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

‘Pancakes,’ he blurts. ‘We got hungry.’

Aranea shakes her head wryly. She foldrs her arms across her chest, tucking her plush nightgown tighter around herself.

‘All right,’ she says doubtfully. ‘But if this place isn’t spotless after you’re done, there’ll be war.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Noct says, at Prompto’s side.

If Prompto didn’t know better, he’d think his friend sounded genuinely fearful.

* * *

‘You sure you don’t need a hand? I’m pretty handy with a knife.’

Gladiolus hovers by the kitchen. He’s been fretting about trying to make himself busy — there’s no room for him in the kitchen, and he can’t exactly go play with the two oversized kids in the living room where they’ve returned to the confines of their pull-out bed.

‘By  _ knife, _ he means  _ sword, _ ’ Ignis says dryly. ‘I’ve never seen a more terrifying sight than Gladiolus wielding a kitchen knife.’

‘He’s right,’ Noct says conspiratorially, ducking in close to Prompto’s ear. ‘He nearly chopped off his own finger when we went camping one time.’

‘We’re good,’ Aranea says, glancing around the kitchen. ‘Sit. Relax. Food’ll be up in maybe an hour.’

Sitting and relaxing seems to be the last thing Gladiolus wants to do, of course, and for a while he paces the floor until he finally settles down into an armchair with a sigh.

It’s around then that Prompto gets an idea.

‘You got a laptop, Gladiolus?’ Prompto asks.

The man looks up, surprised to be addressed.

‘Yeah, in the car,’ he replies. ‘Why?’

Noct’s looking at Prompto curiously; his eyes widen as he seems to catch on.

‘I never got you a gift,’ Prompto says idly. ‘You ever play an MMO before?’

* * *

It’s with considerable reluctance that the trio clear up their laptops and return the sofa to its original position upon Aranea’s barked orders. Other than  _ King’s Knight,  _ which Prompto has played with Noct in the past, Gladiolus had admitted to never really playing any games; when Prompto had tracked down a cheap key for the first  _ Sword of Destiny _ they had helped him make his first character.

An hour hadn’t been enough; Gladiolus had been hooked.

While Gladiolus ducks out to bring food to the members of the Crownsguard stationed outside, the others set up. They move furniture to make room, and a fold-out table is installed in the middle of the floor. There’s just enough space for everybody to sit around it, although the table physically couldn’t fit any more dishes and plates and boats of gravy as Ignis sets everything out.

Prompto’s practically bristling with excitement as he looks over the feast in front of him. Since it’s usually just the two of them, Aranea never really goes all out; this time, she grabbed extra ingredients to account for the extra mouths to feed, and between Ignis’s culinary skills and her own, it’s probably the finest Winter Moon feast Prompto’s ever seen.

‘We don’t say any special words here before we eat,’ Aranea says, laconic as she shakes a napkin out and drapes it over her nap. ‘So… dig in, I guess.’

They each heap mountains of food onto their plates, passing dishes around to each other when requested. There are bottles of spiced wine — courtesy of Ignis — and between that and the seemingly endless supply of food, Prompto doesn’t even know where to begin.

He thinks, as he looks around at the others — at Noct teasing Gladiolus about the monster portion on his plate, at Ignis complimenting Aranea on her honey roast potatoes — that maybe this is what Winter Moon with family is supposed to be like.

He gives a contented sigh and moves to pick up his fork, pausing along the way. After a moment’s thought, he presses the button on his Winter Moon sweater so that the pom-pom of the moogle on the front of it lights up, flashing with a cheerful red glow.

* * *

A wall of cold air hits Prompto’s face as he steps out onto the deck at the rear of the house, as refreshing as it is disorienting. With the heat of the house, the heaviness of the food and the deceptively high alcohol content of the wine, he’s feeling more than a little woozy.

He tugs his coat tighter around himself and paces across the deck and down the steps into the grass, where the snow crunches beneath his shoes.

‘You feeling okay?’

Noct’s voice draws his glance toward the house; his friend is just letting himself out, swaddled in his own coat.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto says, sighing. ‘Got a little lightheaded.’

Noct strolls out, following in his footsteps. When he exhales his breath clouds in front of him, steam in the cold air.

‘Please tell me you’re tipsy too,’ Noct says, ‘and I’m not just a lightweight.’

Prompto snorts and gently checks Noct’s shoulder. Now that he’s looking at his friend in the last of the daylight, he can see it: the rosy cheeks, the glassy eyes. At least Prompto knows it’s not just him now.

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘We’re lightweights. Gladiolus was guzzling the stuff and he’s doin’ fine.’

‘Gladiolus could outdrink a behemoth,’ Noct retorts. It’s hard to tell if he’s fearful or impressed.

Prompto uses the edge of his sleeve to knock snow from the deck, clearing enough room for them to sit. They hop up onto it and perch close where they huddle together for warmth.

‘So,’ Prompto says. ‘What’s the final verdict? Winter Moon in Gralea, better or worse than home?’

Noct’s smiling; Prompto watches him look away, a little bashful. That flush hasn’t gone from his cheeks, the warmth from the wine. It’s kind of cute.

‘Been pretty great,’ Noct says. ‘I got to spend it with you, and Gladio and Iggy are having fun. It feels…’

He trails off, but Prompto thinks he knows what his friend is getting at.

‘It feels like home,’ Prompto says.

Slowly, Noct turns to him. He wets his lips and the movement draws Prompto’s eyes down, but he’s looking back up in a heartbeat where their glances meet.

Prompto’s stomach flips, and it dawns on him that this is starting to be something of a recurring sensation for him when it comes to Noct, and he wonders what it would be like if he just leaned the last little bit of distance between them and—

Noct’s moving closer, he realises, and Prompto’s heart is hammering so wildly he can’t keep his thoughts straight.

Their foreheads touch, and for a little while they sit there, eyes closed, mouths a hair’s breadth apart without actually touching. There’s an ache in Prompto’s chest, like he’s going to explode if something doesn’t happen.

The backyard is so impossibly still, so quiet. A breeze whirls past, setting branches of the solitary oak tree creaking.

Prompto feels Noct’s breath against his skin and then, after a beat, Noct’s lips are on his.

It lasts only long enough for Prompto’s brain to register a barely coherent string of  _ holy shit holy shit holy shit _ — then Noct’s pulling away, wrinkling his brow with something of a confused smile. 

‘Sorry,’ Noct says. ‘I don’t… I don’t know why I did that.’

Prompto can feel his heart in his throat. He’s pretty sure that if he spoke now, it’d come out in a squeak.

‘Better get back in,’ Noct says. ‘Still got presents to open, right?’

He’s the picture of nonchalance, like whatever just happened, well —  _ didn’t. _

‘Right,’ Prompto says with forced brightness.

He hops up, gesturing for his friend to go ahead. He hopes Noct can’t see how badly he’s shaking.

‘Lead the way!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH FINALLY, BOYS
> 
> BUT ALSO
> 
> NOOOOOOCT D:
> 
> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostmallovv)


	12. Chapter 12

‘Are you  _ certain _ you have the emergency contact information?’

‘Iggy. Chill out.’

For Prompto, it’s endearing to watch the dynamic of the two of them as Ignis runs through every possible last-minute issue. It’s plain to see that he’s not wholly comfortable with the idea of Noct venturing off without him or Gladiolus to stand sentinel, but enough had been enough — it’ll be the first and only chance Prompto and Noct have to spend some real time alone together. The prince had been insistent that he have his way.

The Crownsguard will be on hand nearby, at least. It’s a compromise that Ignis seems only partly happy with.

‘You sure you don’t want us to tag along?’ Gladiolus says. ‘You won’t even know we’re there.’

Noct hefts his pack onto his shoulder and gives his his shield a withering look.

‘Seriously,’ he says. ‘We’ll be  _ fine. _ Besides, I’ve got the Armiger if I need it. I can look after myself.’

Noct’s friends still don’t seem convinced, even as Prompto and the prince set off together, heading down the trail that leads from the main road into the wilderness of Niflheim.

It had been Prompto’s idea, initially — a yearning to get away from the drab grey streets of Gralea and see the best parts of Niflheim’s scenery. Coupled with the heavy snowfall this winter, the forest-scattered hinterland seemed like the perfect place.

Then Noct had suggested they take a trip for real. And it had spun out from there.

Of course, Prompto hadn’t had any hiking boots, but Noct had been only too happy to oblige. Prompto stamps their treads happily along the trail as he tests the grip on them, and they make a satisfying  _ crunch _ with each step.

‘So the Crownsguard are just gonna… camp out up there?’ Prompto says.

He has to shield his eyes against the glare of the sun as he glances back to stare up at the overlook; the black cars of the entourage are parked there, in silhouette against the sun.

‘Yup,’ Noct says with a sigh. ‘I feel bad enough that they had to come all the way here with me. The price to pay for visiting a former enemy nation, I guess.’

Prompto returns his attention to the trail and stares glumly down at the path ahead of him. Maybe if he’d agreed to let Noct pay for him to visit, the whole trip wouldn’t have been spent with the shadow of Noct’s guards watching over them, in the background but never entirely invisible.

‘At least Gladiolus and Ignis get to do their own thing for a little while,’ Prompto says brightly. ‘It must be kinda shitty going on vacation when you hafta spend it following somebody around.’

The path splits up ahead. Down the left path is a picnic area; down the right is the beginning of the trail proper. They follow the right, and steadily the trees rush in overhead to blot out the sky.

‘Did Aranea tell you Iggy invited her for coffee?’ Noct says idly.

If Prompto had anything in his mouth, he’d probably be choking on it right now. As it is, he sucks in a lungful of spit in his surprise and has to cough forcefully to clear it.

_ ‘What?’ _ he says. ‘No!’

There’s a knowing smile on Noct’s lips when Prompto glances over at him. Between the two of them, they’ve been making casual bets as to when Ignis and Aranea will hook up.

‘He told me it was to discuss something about work,’ Noct says, shrugging. ‘Some project she’s looking to fund? But he got all flustered when I asked him about it, so it’s  _ totally _ not about business.’

‘So you think they’d, like, do long-distance?’ Prompto says.

Noct shrugs and scratches at the back of his head. The thermal material of his gloves makes a  _ swish _ ing sound as he does so.

‘Iggy’s kinda married to his job,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Sometimes I think he just hasn’t met the right person.’

‘Aranea’s pretty much married to hers, too,’ Prompto says with a grin. ‘Maybe they’re perfect for each other!’

It’s getting darker now, the deeper they go; colder too, even though the snow has barely penetrated the tree cover here. Prompto adjusts the muffler around his throat and zips his coat up all the way to the top, absently playing with the tab of the zipper once he’s done.

It’s so still and quiet here, preternaturally so, that the only sounds around are the crunching of their boots and the swaying of the trees far above.

All Prompto can think about is that kiss in his backyard, when it had felt like the whole world had stopped turning.

_ Just talk to him about it, _ a voice says in his head, timid and hopeful.

_ Don’t, _ another says.  _ Forget it ever happened. Don’t make things weird. _

‘Just a few days left here,’ he says cheerily. ‘Gotta cram in as much together-time as we can, huh?’

Noct’s quiet as he paces along the path. When Prompto looks over at him, his glance is turned downwards at his feet.

‘Yeah,’ Noct murmurs. ‘Guess so.’

They pass under gaps in the tree canopy, sunlight streaming through from the heavens above. Movement off to the right draws Prompto’s eye, where a deer grazes placidly, hunting through the frost for green grass to eat. It’s an exercise in self-restraint not to just blurt out in excitement, but Prompto manages to silently grab Noct’s sleeve, tugging at it and pointing.

For a little while they both stand perfectly still and watch as this majestic creature grazes, apparently oblivious to the audience. It feels momentous, somehow — like they’re been given a wonderful privilege. Prompto’s glad he gets to share it with Noct.

* * *

The picnic spot they wind up at is in a little depression in the valley, where a lake laps peacefully against the shore. All either of them can do when they arrive at their home for the night is stare out over the still surface of the water ahead of them, where the brilliant blue sky and clouds are mirrored in a perfect reflection.

In the distance there are mountains — the advanced trails are all over there, winding up the steep slopes to where the peaks are covered in thick snow. Prompto shivers at the thought of it.

‘Hungry?’ Noct says.

Prompto barely has time to nod before his stomach gives a comical, desperate growl. They both laugh, and Noct dives into his pack to grab his share of the food they brought. There are sandwiches and salads, energy bars and savoury snacks, and Noct even thought to pick up a can of the Sylkis Boost that Prompto loves so much.

They sit by the water’s edge with their picnic, offering each other bites of their food and filling the rare moments where their mouths aren’t too full with happy chatter.

‘Is there anywhere else you wanna go while you’re still in Niflheim?’ Prompto asks through a mouthful of food. ‘Any places you’re dying to visit?’

Noct swallows and shakes his head.

‘I just wanna spend it with you.’

Here’s the moment where Prompto’s supposed to blush — and there it is, right on cue, as he ducks his head and turns away, pretending to be interested in something across the lake. Noct saying that a week earlier would have been nothing; now, after the kiss, it’s like everything his friend says has taken on new meaning.

For Prompto, anyway. He already knows that the kiss meant nothing to Noct.

‘That’s cool,’ he says with feigned nonchalance. The heat still hasn’t faded from his cheeks. ‘We can totally do stuff around Gralea. Or just chill. Whatever.’

He hears the crinkling sound of Noct’s coat as he moves. The prince leans forward, peering into Prompto’s face, and in spite of his best efforts Prompto can’t quite avoid his glance.

‘You okay, man?’ Noct says. ‘You’re acting kinda funny.’

They’re almost as close now as they were when the kiss happened. As Prompto turns to look at his friend, he can’t help but think how easy it would be to close that last little bit of distance between them.

Before the kiss, he hadn’t been sure what he wanted. Hadn’t been sure why his heart skipped every time he heard Noct’s voice, why the sight of his friend’s face made him smile brighter than anything he’d ever smiled about in his life. Now, after it happened, he understands — sort of. Understands that he wants to do it again. But he knows, deep down, that he can’t; that he wants to, but Noct doesn’t. That the kiss was the best part of the holidays, but Noct never meant for it to happen.

He feels sick.

‘Just cold,’ he says.

Setting his food aside, he stands up and kicks his legs out to get his circulation flowing again and crunches his way over to the lake edge.

‘Follow the trail a little longer before we go back?’ Noct suggests from where he sits.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto murmurs. ‘Sounds good.’

* * *

The cold of the snow is a distant memory, warmed from their fingertips by the mugs of cocoa they hold in their hands. Noct had suggested they get a ride back with the Crownsguard to save Gladiolus the trouble of driving all the way back out of the city to pick them up; they’re in a coffee shop now, waiting for him to arrive.

Noct’s phone buzzes where he’s left in on the surface of the table; a picture of them together, a cheesy selfie, adorns the screen as his background.

‘Ignis,’ he says, as he picks his phone up. ‘They’re going to lunch. Huh.’

Coffee — which had been two hours earlier — turned into lunch, and they still think this is about business? Prompto can’t tell whether they’re oblivious, or just playing coy.

‘So what’s the plan for today?’ Noct asks. ‘Your place? The hotel? We can get dinner at the Imperial tonight if you want.’

Prompto nods cheerily. He’s been trying to keep out of his own head ever since their picnic at the lake, and it’s been working — for the most part. Every now and then he catches himself watching Noct, trying to figure out what he’s thinking; whatever it is, it’s not what  _ he’s _ thinking.

‘We can play some more,’ Prompto suggests. ‘Since we don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.’

He doesn’t hear the door opening over the sounds of the coffee shop — without warning, Gladiolus drops into the seat next to him and nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

‘Geez,’ Gladiolus says with a smirk. ‘Somebody’s on edge.’

‘Did Iggy text you?’ Noct asks.

Gladiolus rolls his eyes. He hasn’t bothered to strip out of his layers yet — Prompto doesn’t know how he isn’t boiling like a lobster underneath it all.

‘Yup,’ Gladiolus says. ‘He’s got the car so I gotta wait around until they’re done.’

He doesn’t look pleased, although Prompto thinks there’s something wry to his expression. He does feel bad for the guy — stuck following the prince around, with Ignis for his only entertainment, and now Ignis is hitting it off with Aranea.

‘We’re probably just gonna head back to the hotel,’ Prompto says. ‘You wanna come with? Play some  _ Sword of Destiny?’ _

Across the table, Noct drops his spoon into his mug with a loud sound. When Prompto turns to look at him, he’s frowning.

‘Gladio doesn’t wanna play dumb games with us,’ Noct says. ‘You got better things to do, right?’

Prompto sees Gladiolus open his mouth to answer, but he cuts across him before he can refuse.

‘You had fun with us last time,’ Prompto says. ‘C’monnnn. You gotta be dying to see where the story goes next!’

There’s a glance between Gladiolus and the prince, then a sigh from Noct. While Prompto waits for an answer, he picks up his cocoa and drains the last from the bottom.

‘Sure,’ Gladiolus says. ‘I guess that could be fun.’

‘Great!’ Prompto says brightly.

‘Yeah,’ Noct mutters across the table. ‘Great.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/mooglemallow)


	13. Chapter 13

It’s Noct’s last day in Niflheim. He flies back tonight.

Prompto feels the weight of all the  _ could haves  _ and  _ should haves _ as he showers that morning and tries to plot out their day. The temptation is strong to cram it full of exciting things to do — to make the most of what little time they have left — yet even thinking about all the things they could do together is overwhelming.

He towels off quickly and changes into his clothes; when he gets back to the bedroom, Noct has already ordered room service for breakfast.

‘Wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for,’ Noct says ruefully. ‘I kinda ordered everything.’

It’s no exaggeration: the cart beside the bed is filled with plate after plate of eggs — three different kinds — bacon, toast, and cereal. Prompto hadn’t thought he was hungry, but the sight of so much food sets his stomach growling and he soon flops onto the bed at Noct’s side, greedily eyeing up the feast.

He’s in the middle of munching his way through a particularly crispy piece of bacon when it occurs to him that Noct seems to be going all out — like he’s making up for the tension between them the past few days.

The other night, after their hike through the woods, had been  _ awful. _ Maybe not at first — they had ordered gourmet pizza up to the room to keep them fed while they played games, and it had been good, for a while. It turned out that Gladiolus was quite the strategist, even when it came to MMORPGs; he had been a vital addition to their little team.

Then Noct had just gotten weird, and it hadn’t been the same.

Prompto resolves to put it out of his head. It’s their last day together, after all, and he doesn’t know when they might get to see each other again.

‘What time do you need to check out?’ he asks.

Noct’s mid-yawn, stretching his arms out above his head. When he stops, he gives a lazy shrug.

‘One, I think,’ he replies. ‘Fancy places like this are usually a little lax. They won’t rent out the room until tomorrow.’

‘You sure know a lot about fancy hotels,’ Prompto teases. He picks up a piece of toast, pointing it at Noctis. ‘You stay in places like this a lot?’

The prince’s grin is wry and lazy.

‘Not as much as you think,’ he says. ‘Hotels are great, but I’d take Iggy’s cooking any day.’

There’s so much food for them to get through, but they manage it somehow — Prompto feels like he’s fit to pop, but he hates to waste good food, especially when Noct paid for all of it. Once Prompto’s pretty sure he can’t force down another bite, he throws himself back on the bed and gives a long, low groan of satisfaction.

Further up the bed, Noctis sprawls up onto the pillows. When Prompto twists his head to look back, his friend’s eyes are closed in contentment.

He thinks maybe they’re back to normal — maybe whatever had Noct in a bad mood is over now. He wonders, briefly, if he should ask what had been on his friend’s mind, but he doesn’t want to spoil the moment. Maybe Noct will come to him about it, if it’s important.

‘We could go back to my place after you check out, if you want,’ Prompto suggests. ‘Play some more of the alpha?’

Noct gives a sleepy nod. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes.

‘Cool,’ he says. ‘Just lemme sleep off my food coma first.’

* * *

It’s after two by the time they all bundle into the rental car and head for Prompto’s place.

The four of them — Gladiolus and Ignis tagging along — had shared lunch in the restaurant after checking out, and even though Prompto had thought it impossible to shove any more food into his belly, he’d somehow gotten through a club sandwich and a bowl of chili before it had literally felt as though he was going to burst. He had managed to get a doggy bag to stash one of the fancy desserts for Aranea; not normally one for a sweet tooth, he had no doubt she’d appreciate the tangy lemon confection he picked out.

Prompto feels the weight of their departure as they drive through the city. He’s never had cause to stay at the Imperial — probably never will — and even though they host photography expos there from time to time, he’s never been able to cough up the entry.

It feels like he’s been living a different life the whole time Noct’s been here; he’s dreading returning to normality.

Aranea’s home when they get in, and even though she’s still on vacation she’s bent over paperwork at the island, a mug of what smells like particularly strong coffee in one hand while a pen is poised in the other.

She barely glances up when Prompto gets through the door — he tries not to take it to heart, knowing how distracted she can be when it comes to work.

‘We’ll pick you up at eight,’ Ignis says. With a slightly resigned sigh, he adds,  _ ‘Promptly. _ Be sure you’re ready.’

‘Got it,’ Noct says. ‘Eight sharp, pain of death, yada yada yada.’

Prompto just catches a glimpse of Ignis’s longsuffering expression as he’s hanging up his coat; movement in the kitchenette draws his attention away, and he sees Aranea walking over, wrapping her long cardigan about herself for warmth.

‘I probably won’t be here when you get back,’ she says, sidling up to the party in the entryway. ‘Just wanted to wish you boys a safe flight.’

Ignis has something in his hands; he extends it to Aranea, and Prompto sees it’s a bottle of some sort of liquor with a ridiculously fancy label.

‘A gift,’ Ignis says. ‘For being such a gracious host over Winter Moon.’

Aranea seems more than willing to accept it. She looks the bottle over with an impressed smirk and nods appreciatively at Ignis.

‘Don’t be a stranger, all right?’ she says. She turns to Gladiolus, tapping him on the arm. ‘You either.’

With Ignis and Gladiolus gone, Prompto and Noct gather up a reserve of snacks from the kitchenette and venture upstairs. Noct goes ahead; before Prompto can get very far, Aranea calls out to him and stops him.

‘Do you need us to keep it down while you’re working?’ he asks. ‘We’re just gonna play games and stuff.’

Aranea raises an eyebrow in confusion.

‘What? No.’

She’s conspiratorially as she leans in close. Her dance darts towards the stairs; Noct’s already gone.

‘So,’ she says. ‘Have you figured things out?’

The penny doesn’t drop. Instead, Prompto finds himself looking at her blankly. Is there something he’s supposed to understand? Some reference?

He shrugs.

‘Figured what out?’

Aranea’s sigh is long-suffering as she steps away, holding her hand to her face.

‘Never mind,’ she says. ‘Have fun today, kiddo.’

Bemused, Prompto heads upstairs, still clutching his spoils in his arms.

* * *

After almost five hours straight of video games and anime in the darkened confines of his room, Prompto feels a little surreal as he steps downstairs to find it night out.

When he pulls the front door open there’s a light dusting of snow outside, and Ignis and Gladiolus stand expectantly outside, fidgeting slightly against the cold.

‘He’s still getting ready,’ Prompto says meekly. ‘He’ll be down in a minute.’

They wait inside by the doorway while Noct can be heard banging around upstairs hurrying to get ready. Prompto can hear Ignis sighing, can see him pinching the bridge of his nose at the corner of his vision as though this development is nothing new.

A few minutes later, Noctis blunders downstairs with his backpack on his shoulder, waving apologetically.

‘Can you give us a sec?’ he says. ‘I wanna say goodbye.’

All at once Prompto’s heart lurches in his chest — it can’t  _ really _ be time for Noct to go. Even though they’ve spent all day together, he feels like it hasn’t been enough.

‘Wait,’ he says hurriedly. ‘I could totally come with. See you off, y’know? There’s trains back every twenty minutes so it wouldn’t be a problem.’

He’s almost afraid Noct will refuse, but when he meets his friend’s eye there’s hopefulness there. When the prince looks to Ignis for permission, the advisor merely sighs — he seems to do that a lot, when it comes to Noctis — and turns to go.

‘Great!’ Prompto blurts. ‘I’ll grab my coat.’

Gladiolus flips on the radio while they drive, but they can’t all decide on a station to settle on so he shuts it off in the end. The silence is deafening, at first, but Prompto’s awkward habit of filling nervous moments with chatter soon breaks the ice.

‘Oh, shoot,’ he mutters. ‘I left the lemon thing I got for Aranea in the bottom of my backpack. It’s probably all smooshed…’

In the back seat beside him, Noct grins.

‘She didn’t even ask you to get her anything and you’re upset it might be smooshed,’ Noct says. ‘Anybody ever tell you you’re kinda adorable?’

Prompto ducks his head, but try as he might he can’t hide the burning of his cheeks.

‘Are you  _ certain _ you packed everything, Noct?’ Ignis says. In the rearview mirror, his glance flicks toward the prince. ‘We’ll not be able to turn back once we’re on the motorway.’

Noct shrugs.

‘You worry too much, Specs.’

It seemed like a substantial drive drive on the way in, but it seems to pass this time in the blink of an eye. Before Prompto knows it, Ignis is pulling up to the rental place and ushering them all out.

Prompto’s all jitters as he walks alongside Noct toward the terminal. He knows that as soon as the prince goes through to the departure lounge, that’ll be it — he’ll be gone.

It’s all starting to feel so  _ real; _ it’s like the past two weeks have only just begun to sink in, and the enormity of the fact that Noct is actually leaving now, that once he’s gone he’s really  _ gone, _ has only just hit home.

He drums his hands on his thighs while he tags along with their group through check-in. They really did bring a lot of stuff — the trolley is filled with enough luggage to see a family through a much longer trip. Prompto unconsciously finds himself glancing around at everybody else, and the luggage they brought with them — finds himself taking in the nervous glances on some people’s faces, the excited smiles on others.

He wishes he were one of them: off to start a new adventure in another country. He wishes he were going with Noct.

All too quickly their luggage is checked and they’re ready to head off to the departure lounge. There’s still an hour before the flight, but Ignis is fretting — he keeps checking his watch, and glancing toward the departures board, and even though Prompto isn’t the one flying he feels just as anxious as if he were.

‘We’d best be off, Noct,’ Ignis says. ‘They’ll open boaridng soon.’

‘I know,’ Noct says, waving him off. ‘You guys go ahead, all right? Just gimme a minute.’

‘It was good to meet both of you,’ Prompto says brightly. ‘Gladio, we gotta play together again soon!’

Gladiolus tips his head with a grin; after a moment he heads off with Ignis.

It’s just Prompto and Noct, now. As soon as Noct steps through to departures, he’s gone.

Prompto fidgets where he stands, and all of the things he knows he should say — all the last-minute words he should cram in — just won’t seem to come to his lips. He can feel his heart picking up in his chest as he looks down at the linoleum underneath his sneakers.

‘Can’t believe it’s been two weeks,’ he says. ‘Feels like just a couple days.’

‘Yeah,’ Noct murmurs. ‘Kinda does.’

‘I’ll stay up while you’re on your flight, if you want,’ Prompto suggests. ‘So you’re not bored.’

Noct shrugs.

‘S’okay. I got movies and stuff.’

To Prompto, it feels a little awkward as they stand face to face, the last chance they have for the foreseeable future. He scuffs his shoes into the floor, trying not to think of all the things they never got around to doing together, when suddenly it hits him — they should get a last picture together.

‘Dude,’ he says. ‘Selfie? Only… Shit, I forgot my camera.’

Noct slips his phone from his pocket.

‘It’s cool,’ he says. ‘The pictures come out pretty good on mine.’

Noct sets his carry-on luggage down and they squeeze together, as close as they can get, and smile for the shot.

In the photo, their smiles are a little bittersweet, like even the picture-versions of themselves know they’re frozen in time in their last moments together. Prompto sighs as he looks at it and gives Noct a faint smile before handing the phone back.

‘Send it to me later?’ he says.

‘Sure.’

Noct stoops to grab his bag and slings it over his shoulder. With a glance toward departures, he clears his throat and looks down at the ground.

‘Guess I should go,’ he says. ‘Iggy’s probably losing it right about now.’

‘Probably,’ Prompto says meekly. ‘Listen, Noct. Uh…’

His friend looks at him expectantly, his blue eyes wide. Prompto can’t help but think how good the trip had been until the kiss — how everything had been going so perfectly until one tiny, stupid little thing changed everything forever.

Worst of all? Prompto doesn’t regret that it happened.

He knows he could bring it up now and tell Noct what’s on his mind, but all he keeps thinking is that things will get weird again, and that’ll be the last memory they have of their time together. He doesn’t want Noct to board his flight wishing Prompto never opened his mouth.

‘Prompto?’

Noct’s got an eyebrow raised, his expression bemused.

‘Nothing,’ Prompto says, putting on a bright smile. ‘Just wanted to wish you a good flight.’

With a little nod, Noct turns and goes.

Prompto watches his friend’s figure retreat as he heads for departures. Just a handful of strides and he’ll be getting his ticket and passport checked, ready to be waved through to the departure lounge. Once he’s past, he’s as good as gone.

Dread hits Prompto like a ton of bricks, so hard and sudden he almost buckles. Noct’s going — he’s going, and Prompto knows if he doesn’t take a chance now, he may never get to.

He can feel his heart pick up in his chest with each step Noct takes. He could let Noct walk away now, or he could stop him and say everything he’s been thinking, everything that’s been running through his head since the kiss — maybe even since before then. Doubt prickles at him: what if he frightens Noct away? What if his friend just laughs in his face?

It doesn’t matter. Prompto needs to know.

‘Noct!’

The prince doesn’t hear him right away; he takes off at a jog, positive he’s attracting the wrong kind of attention as he goes.

‘Noct! Wait!’

He doesn’t even know what he’ll say when he gets there — has tried so hard to avoid thinking about how he feels that he doesn’t have some brilliant speech locked down. He’s running through all the things he could say, all the ways he could phrase it, yet by the time he catches up to Noct and his friend turns around, his mind is blank.

Prompto stares into those icy blue eyes, and for a fleeting moment he wonders if there’s still time to turn away. Noct’s looking at him encouragingly, though, and Prompto wets his lips, swallowing, opening his mouth even before he knows what he wants to say.

‘Don’t go,’ he blurts.

Noct looks at him blankly, and it takes maybe half a minute for it to sink in before Prompto realises what just came out of his own mouth. When it dawns on him, he lets out a nervous laugh and shakes his head, rubbing at the back of his neck.

‘I mean,’ he says. ‘I know you  _ have to _ go, but. I just… Don’t. Not yet.’

‘Not… yet?’ Noct says, tilting his head to the side. ‘What’s up, dude?’

Prompto gives another nervous laugh and steps a little closer. As if moving by itself, his hand lifts and gently grabs at the lapel of Noct’s jacket, and he can almost  _ feel _ the air rush from Noct’s lungs.

_ It’s now or never. _

Prompto wets his lips again, and he knows they’re all chapped from the winter weather and there’s a tube of mango chapstick in his pocket, but it’d probably be all shades of weird if he reached into his pocket and grabbed it now. Instead, he steps up until the toes of his sneakers are touching Noct’s, and nibbles lightly on his bottom lip as he meets Noct’s eyes in a silent question.

It doesn’t matter that there are people milling all around them, or that there are loud announcements coming over the air every few moments. Prompto lets it all fade away as he leans close, and as his eyelids flutter shut he sees Noct’s lips part slightly in anticipation.

The first brush of their mouths against each other is like static; Prompto almost jolts away in surprise. But he keeps a hold on Noct’s jacket and fights the urge to flee, and he feels his friend’s hand come to sit gently in the curve of his neck.

Noct’s lips are cool against his, and he moves them softly, gently. Prompto tries to match the pace but he’s all nervous and jittery, and before long he’s breaking away, his cheeks burning hot.

‘Hey,’ Noct says. ‘You don’t need to be shy.’

‘Who says I’m shy?’ Prompto protests with a pout.

Dumb question; out of anybody Prompto knows, of  _ course _ Noct can tell when he’s shy.

The prince laughs, and his grin is probably the biggest and brightest Prompto has ever seen as he lifts his hand to touch Prompto’s cheek.

‘I really gotta go,’ he says. ‘Iggy’s gonna kill me.’

Prompto chews his lip. Now that he’s had that kiss, he doesn’t want to let Noct go.

‘One more?’ he suggests. ‘For the road?’

Noct smirks, and he moves closer and his mouth is on Prompto’s again, and this time they’re both a little less halting, like they don’t have the weight of  _ but-what-if-he-doesn’t-feel-the-same _ holding them back.

Prompto’s eyes are still closed when Noct pulls away. He blows out a slow, shuddering breath and feels Noct’s forehead come to rest against his, the strands of Noct’s hair tickling his cheek.

‘Why didn’t we do this sooner?’ Noct murmurs.

‘Cause we’re dumbasses,’ Prompto replies.

He hears Noct smile; when he pulls back, his friend has a dopey grin on his lips.

Somewhere, over the hum of the aerodrome, there’s a shout — a frantic, impatient call of what sounds as though it might be Noct’s name.

‘I wanted to talk to you about… this,’ Prompto says sheepishly. They’re still real close, like they’re not in the most public venue possible; like they’re not probably attracting stares.

‘Me too,’ Noct says. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t.’

Prompto puffs out a sigh and toes his shoe into a crack in the linoleum underfoot. How differently would their trip have played out, if they’d just spoken about the kiss? If they’d realised their feelings from the start?

It doesn’t matter — wallowing only leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t want to taint this memory, to make it any less perfect than it is.

He loosens his grip on Noct’s jacket. When he moves to pull his hand away, the prince takes hold of it gently. Noct’s fingers are cool and soft, and even though this isn’t the first time they’ve held hands, it feels so very much as though it is.

In Noct’s pocket, his phone buzzes angrily.

‘Okay,’ Noct says, chuckling. ‘Now I  _ really _ gotta go. Talk to you later?’

Prompto swallows the lump in his throat. It’s not dread, or regret — it’s sadness over seeing his friend go.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Later.’

This time, as he watches Noct adjust his hood and turn to leave in earnest, Prompto’s heart feels lighter. It still hurts; of course it does.

Somehow, though, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like the beginning of something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *INCOHERENT SCREECHING*
> 
> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/mooglemallow)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, apparently this fic isn't dead!

There’s a couple at table 11 making goo-goo eyes at each other, like they have been ever since they got in. They’re a little younger than Prompto, probably barely out of high school, and they look like precisely the sort of pair of sweethearts who’ll grow old together someday.

Prompto knows, as soon as he drops off their dessert, that they’re going to do the movie cliché and share bites from each other’s plates — and sure enough he’s barely turning his back on them before the guy spears a bite of chocolate cake from his dish and extends it across the table to his girlfriend.

In spite of himself, in spite of every instinct that a year ago would’ve had him protesting over how damn  _ cute  _ and  _ gross _ they are, Prompto can’t help but smile.

When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he knows without checking that it’s Noct. It’s always Noct — who else would it be, when his days have been a blur of working overtime and squeezing as much gaming time in with the guy as he can?

He’s been saving up for months now, ever since Noctis headed back home from his visit. Noct had barely been on the plane before the text had come through, complete with a sly little smiley face.

_ so, _ it had said.  _ when r u comin 2 see me? ;) _

There had been no question of it, really — they’d figured out the  _ when _ over a few intercontinental video chats, and the details had come together after that. 

He slips his phone from his pocket once he’s through the doors into the back, hardly bothering to check if there’s anybody around to see. He’s already on his fifth warning for screwing around on his phone while on-shift, and he should know better — if he pushes his manager too far, there won’t  _ be _ any more overtime to help him save up — but with Noct, it’s like nothing else matters.

_ just wanted 2 say im thinkin about u _

Prompto feels like his face might split, big and bright as his grin is on reading Noct’s text message. He’d like nothing better than to hear that familiar voice on the line right now, but he knows he has to be patient — so he settles for firing back a quick response that he was thinking about Noct too, and slips the phone back into his pocket.

Just a few more months of working himself to the bone, and Prompto will be on vacation. A couple more months, and he’ll be off to Insomnia to see Noct again in person.

He’s practically buzzing with excitement as he sets off to work once more, and he knows that not even the fussiest, rudest of patrons could put him in a bad mood.

It’s beyond late by the time he gets home from work, and he knows there won’t be any more messages from Noct for a while, so he resigns himself to hitting the hay. Still, he’s thinking about his boyfriend — he can’t get over the fact that he gets to call Noct that, even three months after they made it official — and he can barely get his mind to settle as tosses and turns, trying to get comfortable.

A few more months, and he can see Noct face-to-face and say all the things he’s had brimming around in his head. A few more months, and he can hold Noct in his arms and kiss him and do everything he’s been wishing he could do since that day they parted at the aerodrome.

* * *

‘It’s too  _ hot,’ _ Noct mutters.

Prompto can’t say he agrees; it’s one of those grey, cloudy days in a Gralean May that he’s come to be so accustomed to, where he’s almost forgotten what a blue sky looks like. Noct, though, is just in a tee, and his hair is a little mussed up and sweaty.

Secretly, Prompto thinks it’s kind of sexy.

‘Is it gonna be real bad in August?’ Prompto asks, chewing his lip. ‘You know I wilt like a houseplant in the heat.’

Noct snorts on the other end of the connection, and as he splits into a grin it draws Prompto’s eye to the little freckle not far from the corner of his mouth. When his mind starts drifting to thoughts of kissing that freckle, Prompto clears his throat and puts it out of his head.

‘It’s cool,’ Noct says, with a shrug. ‘There’s air conditioning, like,  _ everywhere. _ We can hang out at the pool all you want.’

Prompto sighs and flops back on his pillows, propping his head in his hands. It’s a nice thought — getting to live in the lap of luxury for a few weeks. Sure, he’s using up all his vacation days at once, and his managers have been giving him hell about it, but it’s been all he’s had to look forward to for months.

‘I should shower,’ he says with a groan. ‘But it’s gross outside. I don’t wanna get out of bed.’

Noct’s reply is simple and carefree: ‘So don’t.’

Prompto smirks. It’s easy for Noct to say when he can have food ordered to his room at his leisure. Prompto has to feed himself the old-fashioned way.

‘Much as I’d like to spend my day off lazing around doing nothing,’ Prompto says,  _ ‘some of us _ have to be adults.’

‘Says who?’ Noct counters. ‘Spend the day in bed with me.’

So he means it figuratively — obviously — but still it brings heat to Prompto’s cheeks. He can’t help but think of the times they sprawled out in bed together during Noct’s trip, when he hadn’t realised that the whole butterflies-in-his-stomach thing had been attraction. There’ll be plenty enough time for that when Prompto visits Insomnia, but still: he wishes he could do it  _ now. _

Prompto gives a half-hearted little groan and glances towards the door of his room. He could go shower now and get it out of the way — and once he’s up, he’ll probably be more motivated to actually do something productive with his day — but Noct’s offer is  _ entirely _ too tempting.

It’s probably a surprise to neither of them when he sighs and turns his gaze back to the screen with a shrug of defeat.

‘You win,’ he says.

Noct splits into a grin, and it’s almost enough in itself to make the whole thing worthwhile.

‘Don’t act like I’m forcing you,’ the prince says wryly. ‘You barely needed to be convinced!’

* * *

Prompto knows that Noct is staying awake for his sake. He knows that it’s after three in Insomnia; that here in Gralea it’s about time he finally drag himself out of bed to go get some dinner.

The problem? He doesn’t want to — not while Noct is still awake.

‘Wanna watch the next movie?’ Noct asks blearily. For his part, he’s doing his best to seem alert, and he’s doing a convincing enough job of it.

It’s tempting, but Prompto reluctantly shakes his head.

‘You should get some sleep, dude,’ he says. ‘We can pick it up again some other time.’

Noct makes some vague noise of complaint, but it’s not very convincing. Even the effort of it is enough to rouse a yawn from him, which he stifles with the top of his blanket.

‘See?’ Prompto insists. ‘You can barely keep your eyes open. You know I’m right.’

Too many times they’ve had the reverse of this scenario, where Noct has been the one to wake up and find Prompto still about, waiting for him to get online. Prompto knows he normally drags his heels about heading to bed, but he can’t help feeling a little guilty keeping Noct awake — even if he seems to thrive on the awkward hours.

Prompto, for his part, has been fuelling himself with energy drinks for the past hour or two. By the time Noct wakes sometime around eleven, he’ll probably still be around.

‘What if I just stay up all night?’ Noct says. 

Prompto tries to hide his grin as he reaches over to grab his drink. Yep — he’s  _ definitely _ been in Noct’s shoes.

‘You  _ could _ do that,’ he says, pausing to take a sip, ‘but then you’ll be a zombie tomorrow.’

There’s a groan from Noct, and Prompto watches him petulantly hide his face in the covers. After a moment he lifts his head, looking dejected.

‘Ugh,’ Noctis mutters in mock disgust. ‘You’re worse than Ignis.’

With Noct’s hair sticking up all over and his lips in a pout, Prompto doesn’t think he’s ever looked cuter. That’s saying a  _ lot, _ too; he’s seen pictures Noct sent him of his hair spiked up in a shampoo-mohawk during a shower.

‘Go to bed, Your Highness,’ Prompto says. 

‘Fine, I’m going,’ Noct says. ‘Love you, man.’

It’s so casual — and clearly unintentional — that Prompto doesn’t even notice at first. Even Noct seems oblivious, and for a little while there’s a strange sort of silence between them as they each play the words back over in their heads.

‘Wait,’ Noct says slowly.

‘Did you just—’ Prompto blurts at the same moment. 

Prompto thinks that somewhere, in the graininess of the video feed and the darkness of Noct’s room, he can see a blush take form on Noct’s cheeks. It only seems to darken the more Prompto stares, until the prince suddenly clears his throat and sinks down into his covers, effectively hiding himself from view.

‘Did you mean “I love you, man”,’ Prompto says, narrowing his eyes shrewdly like he might somehow be able to see through the blankets and into Noct’s thoughts, ‘or  _ “I love you, _ man”?’

Noctis takes so long to emerge that Prompto has begun to think maybe he fell asleep — or that he’s dodging the question — by the time he finally pokes his head out.

‘I guess I meant, uh,’ Noct says, and it’s so obvious he’s trying — and failing — to play it cool. ‘I guess I meant  _ I love you. _ Or whatever.’

It’s played nonchalant, but Prompto isn’t remotely convinced; not that he can tease his boyfriend when his own heart seems intent on bursting out of his chest. He’d be lying if he said he’d never caught himself about to say those three words himself, but either the timing wasn’t right, or the little voice in his head had talked him down for fear of rejection, and he’d just never gotten around to it.

He never thought Noct would be the first to say it out of the two of them.

‘I love you, too,’ he says.

The words come out easier than he’d thought: like he’s been saying them for months. He supposes, in his own way, he kind of has.

‘So,’ Noct says, with an awkward little chuckle. ‘What now?’

Prompto splits into a grin.

_ ‘So,’ _ he replies, ‘you get your butt to bed, and we can talk again tomorrow. All right?’

Noct pauses to consider this, then nods.

‘All right,’ he says. ‘Love you, Prom.’

‘Love you too.’

The words echo in Prompto’s ears long after the connection is severed, and for a minute he has to fight the urge to call Noct back up just to hear it — and say it — all over again. A year ago he never would’ve believed he’d been hanging up after saying the L word to Noctis for the first time; a year ago he’d been too oblivious to recognise that little squirmy feeling he got in his stomach every time they talked for what it was.

They love each other, and soon they’ll see each other again.  _ Finally. _

August can’t get here fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/orchardofbones)


	15. Chapter 15

In eleven hours, Prompto will be in Insomnia — be with Noct. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, too jazzed about getting to see his boyfriend again to be nervous about going through security, or making his flight on time, or sitting in a giant hunk of metal in the sky with his life in the pilots’ hands.

He’d second-guessed himself, of course, before he left home. What if Noct’s feelings have changed? What if he gets there and it’s awkward and weird? What if all the kisses they’ve talked about sharing don’t happen, because they’re too shy seeing each other again face to face?

Aranea had talked him out of it, of course, as he should have known she would.

‘This guy likes you so much he’s willing to be with you even though you live across the world,’ she had said, one hand on her hip and a knowing look in her eyes. ‘If you don’t think that means you have something special, you’re an idiot.’

The woman at check-in spends extra long going over his details; when he sees the subtle look of confusion on her face as she checks his ticket, he can’t help but worry that something is wrong. It takes all of his self-control not to blurt out an onslaught of questions — so instead he speculates silently that maybe he got the date wrong, or they misspelled his name so it doesn’t match his passport, or any of a million other things.

When he thinks he’s just about exhausted all of the worst case scenarios, she looks brightly up at him with a pleasant smile on her face.

‘Sorry about that, sir,’ she says. ‘I had a little trouble finding you on the system. It looks like your seat was upgraded and you were never issued a new boarding pass.’

Prompto is aware of the line behind him, and of the impatient man with a gaggle of small children in tow right after him, clearly eager to get going. He’s aware that he held things up already with the confusion over his ticket, and he knows he should hurry along on his way to let everybody else check in. Yet as he stares at this woman, open-mouthed, he can’t quite seem to make his legs move.

‘Upgraded?’ he says. ‘Like… I was moved? Am I still on the same flight?’

The woman nods, and she still has that smile in place, patient and understanding.

‘Yes, Mr. Argentum,’ she says. ‘You’ve been bumped to first class.’

* * *

It’s really no mystery, Prompto thinks, as he sips from a tall glass of soda generously filled with ice. He hadn’t gotten an answer back from Noct when he had texted — it’s late in Insomnia, and they’re meeting at eight local time — but Prompto harbours no illusions that anybody but the prince had been behind it.

It’s typical Noct, and he can’t even be annoyed — not when he knows it was the prince’s way of treating Prompto to something nice after he refused to let him outright pay for the flights.

There’s a menu in the pouch in the back of the seat in front of him; he slips it out and glances through the dinner options. It’s a fusion of Lucian and Niflian cuisine, with everything from battered fish and fries to curried vegetables. When he spies the dessert menu down underneath, his heart skips a little beat — he wonders if it’d be pushing it to ask for a sampler of everything, because they all sound so good.

Still, as excited as he is about being in first class, nothing comes close to knowing he’ll be with Noct again soon. All of this luxury is just a temporary distraction while he counts down the hours until they’ll be together.

* * *

He’d thought the aerodrome back home had been busy; the one in Lucis is absolutely brimming with people. Prompto tries not to get swept away by the crowd as he makes his way to the baggage carousels, glancing around himself all the while.

The Lucian aerodrome is a relatively new installation, built after the peace treaty with Niflheim finally opened up the world’s skies to every citizen, no matter where they called home. The one back home is old fashioned and dingy, a dated husk retrofitted with the latest tech; here in Lucis, everything is new and shiny and  _ bright. _

He passes business people in suits, and he pities them taking such a long flight for work. He sees families, parents of small children, people all harried by the stresses of travel but clearly relieved to be on solid ground once more. He even thinks he spies a model he’s familiar with on social media, but a swarm of travellers moves in and blocks his view before he can get a proper look.

He’s so anxious about finding his stuff — about navigating his way through this labyrinth of sheet glass and shiny titanium — that he almost forgets why he’s here in the first place.

When he grabs his belongings at last — he’s grateful for Noct’s suggestion that he pick brightly-coloured suitcases to make them easy to spot — he starts the process of dragging it all toward the exit, and it finally hits him.

He’s here. He’s really here. And he’s going to see Noct again, in a matter of minutes.

He tries not to run as he hurries through customs, and even though it only takes a few minutes it feels like an eternity as he taps his foot and keeps shooting anxious glances towards the exit.

_ Be patient, _ he tells himself.  _ You’ve waited so long for this. _

And then he’s free — free to go ahead, free to lug all of his things behind him as he takes off at a jog and wonders if  _ maybe _ he packed a little too much, and then he’s out of customs and into the main aerodrome and looking frantically around for any sign of the person he wants to see most in the world.

He spots Gladiolus first; a full head and shoulders above most of the crowd, he looks vigilant as he scans the crowd. It must be nerve-racking to have to protect Noct in a place like this, where threats could wear the face of so many dozens of travellers, but then Prompto spies the Crownsguard dotted around at strategic intervals and remembers that Noct is never  _ really _ alone.

If Gladiolus is there, and the entourage, Noct must be right there too, and Prompto feels himself splitting into a grin that he and his boyfriend are both so short that he can’t even pick out the crown prince of Lucis in a crowded aerodrome.

When Prompto sees him — when the sea of bodies seems to open like a pathway — all of the noise and mayhem of the aerodrome fades away. It’s like they’re back when they shared that kiss before Noct left, when the rest of the world had seemed to fall away; Prompto doesn’t even realise that he’s dropped his things and started running until suddenly Noct is right there, and they’re wrapping each other in a hug so tight that it  _ hurts _ and yet Prompto can’t bring himself to care.

He had been so worried that it would be awkward, their seeing each other in the flesh again after all their talk of how they’d give up everything just to hold one another. It’s not awkward, though — it feels so  _ right, _ and as Noct pulls away and cups his cheeks and pulls him into a kiss, Prompto thinks he might have died and gone to heaven.

* * *

Ignis isn’t with them today — some state function that he couldn’t wiggle out of — so there’s somebody Prompto doesn’t recognise in the driver’s seat. Gladiolus is up front, sharing chit chat with the guy, and whoever he is they seem to know each other well.

It’s only now, on the road, that the nervousness has kicked in; they’ve spent the better part of the ride shooting shy glances at each other and smiling when their eyes meet.

Prompto feels like a dumb, lovesick kid. He loves it.

‘D’you get any sleep?’ Noct asks, finally disturbing the silence. ‘You can nap at my apartment, if you want.’

Prompto shakes his head. It feels like after all the months they’ve waited for this day, sleeping through it would be a waste.

‘I’m good,’ he says. ‘Can we maybe, uh… grab something to eat? There was breakfast on the flight but I slept through it.’

He expects Noct to tease him, but instead the prince leans over, straining against his safety belt as he goes, and plants a kiss on Prompto’s cheek.

‘There’s a coffee shop by my place,’ he says. ‘They do incredible breakfast.  _ All day long.’ _

It’s a long, seemingly endless drive, and it’s only the thought of food that keeps Prompto going. He’s read up enough on Insomnia and Lucis to be familiar with the different territories, but he hadn’t realised just how far the Crown City stretches; it seems impossible to him that they could’ve been on the road from the aerodrome and still not be near the centre.

He watches the landscape shift from agricultural to industrial to commercial; watches the buildings sprawl out less and shoot higher and higher into the sky. Here’s the  _ real _ Insomnia, packed to the gills with people — and filled with cars, all lined up on the streets like a trail of ants.

‘First impressions?’ Noct asks, looking over.

Prompto looks up at the buildings towering overhead. It’s bright enough out that he can see almost perfectly through the blacked-out windows, while they’re afforded the luxury of privacy.

‘It’s fancier than Gralea,’ he says. ‘Less smoggy and gross. And it’s  _ huge.’ _

‘Yeah?’ Noct says. Try as he might to hide it, a secretive little smirk spreads across his lips. ‘You haven’t seen  _ anything _ yet.’

Whatever the mystery behind Noct’s words, Prompto doesn’t have to wait long for it to be revealed. He spots it right away, towering above the skyline; it glints in the sun like a pillar of pure light. This must be the Citadel, he realises: the heart of Insomnia.

He’s pretty sure his jaw’s hanging open, and when he looks over at Noct, stunned, he sees his boyfriend grinning back at him unrestrained.

_ ‘That’s _ where you grew up?’ Prompto says, barely able to keep the awe from his voice. ‘It looks  _ way _ smaller in pictures.’

He knows Noctis doesn’t live there any more; knows he hasn’t since he was sixteen, when he begged his father to let him keep an apartment nearby and earn some independence. He still struggles to imagine the prince when he was little, wandering the halls of that gargantuan place as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

‘I’ll show you around sometime,’ Noct says. ‘Might as well get the full Insomnia experience, right?’

Prompto’s still thinking about what the hell he should even wear while touring a place like the Citadel by the time the car draws to a halt. They’re outside a café — it looks just like any of the cosy little places Prompto and Loqi might frequent back home — and as the driver keeps the engine running, Gladio turns around in his seat and looks between the two passengers.

‘You sure you don’t want a babysitter?’ he asks wryly.

Noctis snorts.

‘If you wanna come in and get something, just say so,’ he retorts.

There’s a look on Gladiolus’s face — not quite disdain, not quite revulsion. He shoots a look at the driver as though they’re sharing some secret joke.

‘And pay twice as much for a fancy label on a cup?’ he says. ‘I’ll pass.’

They’re out of the car and making for the door when it dawns on Prompto suddenly — his things are still in the trunk. He shoots a frantic look toward the car as it departs, but Noct shakes his head.

‘They’ll drop your stuff with the concierge,’ Noct says. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

The exterior of the building is an old-fashioned townhouse, and the inside of the café has been done up to maintain all the original features, with a few perks added. The walls are freshly painted in rustic, earthy hues, and the staff’s uniform is a sleek black ensemble that lends the place a classy vibe. Prompto wonders if  _ everywhere _ in Insomnia is fancy like this, or if that can only be said of the prince’s usual haunts.

‘You want a little of everything?’ Noct asks, with a grin, as he gestures to a table in the corner. ‘Like at the hotel?’

Prompto slips his jacket from his shoulders — he sincerely doubts he’ll need it again in the Lucis heat — and drapes it over the back of one of the seats.

‘I’ll just get a bagel or something,’ he says.

Noct gives him  _ a look, _ and Prompto knows he’s not going to get the last say here.

‘Dude,’ the prince says. ‘You’re my guest here, remember? If I don’t get to spoil you a little, what’s the point?’

So Prompto gives in, if a little reluctantly, and takes a seat while Noct goes off to place the order. While his companion is gone, he whips his phone out to see if there’s an open WiFi network nearby — only to find that he’s  _ surrounded _ by hotspots. Even better: they’re all faster than his connection at home.

He marvels at it, and at the localised ads for products he’s never even heard of. There’s a banner for a street festival soon, which looks like it could be good: something about a fusion of cultures from all over the world.

He’s only got three weeks here, and between getting to see the sights and spending as much time as possible with Noct, it just doesn’t feel like enough.

* * *

They order in for lunch, after Prompto’s had some time to avoid the gargantuan task of unpacking. It’s gourmet sandwiches and pressed juice, made with fruit from the region. It feels like every meal Prompto shares with Noct is better than the last.

‘I’m prob’ly gonna pop if I eat any more today,’ he says with a groan, patting his belly.

He’s glad they’re at Noct’s place, rather than out someplace public; his day has been so hectic already that it’s nice to get his head straightened out for a little while.

‘Think you’ll have room for dinner?’ Noct asks, poking Prompto gently in the stomach as if to test the veracity of his words. ‘There’s this place a couple blocks over, and they do the  _ best _ calzone. My treat.’

It’d be easy to get swept up in Noct’s enthusiasm — if it weren’t for that pesky feeling of guilt that keeps cropping up every time the prince drops a handful of bills without batting an eye.

Prompto looks down at his hands, where he wrings them in his lap. He wonders if he should say something, should tell Noct that he doesn’t need to splash out for his sake, but before he can even start to formulate the words Noct touches a hand to his wrist.

‘Hey,’ the prince says. ‘Does it make you feel bad when I buy stuff for you?’

Prompto lets out a nervous laugh in spite of himself, and when he glances up Noct has a meek look on his face.

‘You don’t make me feel  _ bad,’ _ Prompto says. ‘I just… Your birthday’s coming up, and I’m supposed to be spoiling  _ you, _ not the other way ‘round.’

He wonders if his words hurt Noctis; the prince goes quiet for a while, and the urge springs up to take it all back — but Noct’s always telling him to be more assertive, and it does neither of them any favours to hide their true feelings.

‘I’m sorry,’ Noct says. He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck, looking away. ‘I know how hard you worked to save up the money to get here, and I wanted you to be able to have some cash left over to enjoy yourself. Guess I… got carried away, huh?’

Prompto shrugs and flashes a shy little smile.

‘A little,’ he says. ‘And I love you for it. But… you don’t need to worry about covering me all the time to make sure I have a good trip. I’m just happy I’m here.’

When Noct finally meets Prompto’s glance, there’s a look in his eyes that makes Prompto’s stomach do a flip. They’ve been waiting for this visit for months — and even though it’s been less than a year since they saw each other in the flesh, it felt more like a lifetime of waiting and wondering when they’d get to touch each other again.

Here, now, with Noct’s hand gently coming to rest once more on Prompto’s wrist, it feels like all those months were worth it. Like there’s nothing that could possibly get in the way, not ever again.

‘A’right,’ Noct says, with a resolute nod. ‘I’ll stop worrying so much. But that doesn’t mean I don’t to spoil you a little too, okay?’

Prompto snorts. He has a feeling trying to press Noct on this is just going to make him all the more stubborn.

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘And I get to spoil you sometimes, too. Your birthday  _ is _ coming up, after all.’

He’s grinning when Noct leans over and catches him in a kiss; it takes him off guard, and it knocks the air out of him with a soft little gasp.

This is among the first handful of kisses they’ve ever shared, and it fleetingly crosses Prompto’s mind that he should be nervous. Instead, it feels right as the prince slips a hand into his hair and uses it to tilt his face to give him a better angle; Prompto responds by gently clutching at Noct’s shirt.

It starts out innocently enough, but soon a thread of longing weaves its way into the embrace. Prompto can feel his heart pounding rapidly within his chest, and as the kisses grow more heated he has to gasp for breath in the rare moments their lips part from each other.

When Noct climbs into his lap and straddles him, it’s like the Astrals themselves have dipped into any of the abundant dirty dreams Prompto’s had about moments like this for inspiration — and he lets his body do the talking, slipping his hands around Noct’s waist and up the back of his shirt, where he feels the prince’s skin prickle into goosebumps under his touch.

When Noct pulls away, his mouth separating from Prompto’s with a wet sound, his cheeks are red and his eyes are a little out of focus. Prompto’s sure he’s not in much better of a condition.

‘I’m gonna hate myself for this,’ Noct says, blowing out a breath and steadying himself. ‘But… maybe we should…’

When he trails off, Prompto searches his eyes for some sort of conclusion. He knows what’s coming next, though.

‘Take things slowly…?’ Prompto finishes for him. ‘I’m totally gonna hate myself too, but you’re right.’

Noct looks relieved, and Prompto feels a little weight lift off his chest that he hadn’t even realised had been there to begin with. Fooling around — actually  _ doing _ the things they’ve coyly alluded to over the past few months — feels like the logical conclusion to this little tryst, but it’s all been such a whirlwind that he’s not even sure if he’s ready.

‘Good,’ Noct says with a sigh. ‘As long as you’re okay with it, I mean.’

Slowly, Prompto slips his hands up to cup Noct’s cheeks, and pulls him into a gentle kiss. It’s less needy than the ones that came before, although he can still feel that pressing urge to deepen it, to slip his tongue between Noct’s lips.

When he pulls away, he flashes the prince a smile.

‘We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out,’ he says. ‘When we’re  _ both _ ready.’

Noct nods his head once more. Carefully, he climbs off of Prompto and settles himself back onto the couch.

‘Oh, one other thing,’ Prompto says, turning his eyes shrewdly on the prince.

Noct returns his glance hesitantly.

‘Yeah…?’

Gently, playfully, Prompto punches Noct in the shoulder.

‘That’s for upgrading my flights, asshole,’ he says.

‘Yeah,’ Noct says with a scoff. ‘I love you too.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cockblocked ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> [main tumblr](http://theorchardofbones.tumblr.com) | [ffxv sideblog](http://harshmallowffxv.tumblr.com) | [twitter](http://twitter.com/orchardofbones)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm sorry this took 3 millennia for me to update. I know the world has turned to ash and we've been assimiliated by our alien overlords, but hopefully you're still reading!
> 
> Life has been A Lot. Pregnancy; constantly being ill for months at a stretch; actually _having_ the baby and everything that came after... Hopefully y'all understand  <3

Prompto stretches out as far as he can beneath the covers; the cool, soft cotton of the sheet is nice against his bare feet, and he scrunches his toes into it with a satisfied sigh. As ways to wake up go, this isn’t half bad.

Well, he can think of  _ one _ thing he’d change that’d make it perfect — waking up next to Noct. Prompto can’t say he faults the guy for suggesting they sleep in separate beds for a little while, until they figure things out, even if there’s a little part of him that had wanted to crawl into bed next to the prince and smother him with kisses.

When he checks the time, it’s only eight, so he probably has a while before Noct gets up for the day. Prompto could go shower and spend the morning amusing himself, or he  _ could _ climb into bed with Noct…

It’s probably no surprise when the latter wins out and he finds himself padding out of his room in little more than an oversized t-shirt and undies, letting himself into Noct’s room. Even though the curtains are still half-open, the prince is comatose on his stomach, his shoulders rising and falling gently in time with the soft sounds of his snoring.

Prompto doesn’t even need to be quiet as he makes his way across the room, but he tiptoes anyway until he’s at the far edge of the bed.

The one in the guest room is a double, more than big enough for Prompto to sprawl out in, but this one is even  _ bigger. _ After he climbs in, he has to wriggle over before he gets anywhere Noct — and then once he’s close enough he suddenly finds himself shy, like he doesn’t know where he was going with his plan.

Tentatively, he slips his hand under the covers and seeks out Noct’s. Even as he threads their fingers together, the prince doesn’t wake.

For a little while, Prompto wonders what it’s like to be  _ with _ somebody; to see them every single day, to wake up with them every morning, to do all the mundane, boring little things like shopping for groceries and paying bills. 

_ Get a grip, Prompto, _ he chides.  _ You’re thinking about paying bills with him and you’ve only been here for a day. _

He gives a weary sigh — barely catching himself in case he wakes Noct — and wriggles just a little closer.

It’s a wonder to him that he didn’t realise sooner that he had feelings for his friend; that all the pieces hadn’t fallen into place when he’d found himself lying in bed next to the guy, his heart thudding erratically. It all seems so obvious now, and the memory brings with it a pang of regret — that neither of them said anything sooner; that they could’ve spent Noct’s visit differently if they’d just  _ known. _

Noctis still snores soundly, and it’d be a wonder if the Astrals themselves could rouse him. Maybe Prompto could snuggle up and fall asleep next to him, for just a few more hours.

Carefully, he moves up closer and winds his arm around Noct’s waist. He’s just about to nestle his face in against the curve of Noct’s neck when the prince stirs, twisting his head to look at Prompto blearily.

Noct isn’t cranky to be woken early, surprisingly — instead a lazy little smile crosses his lips, and he treats Prompto to a sleepy kiss.

‘It’s early,’ Prompto murmurs, snuggling in close. ‘Try to get some more sleep.’

But they don’t get back to sleep — and Prompto would’ve been surprised if they had when his heart won’t seem to settle down any time he’s close to Noct — so they spend the next couple hours lazily talking under the covers, kissing to fill the silence between their words, and plotting out their day and the food they’re going to eat.

Eventually, the talk of  _ food _ is enough to drag both of them out of bed.

They don’t bother cooking anything, but Prompto isn’t hard pressed to find something to gorge on when he goes hunting through Noct’s kitchen. Supplies range from the healthy — high-protein breakfast bars, in boxes that have never been opened — to the sugary — toaster pastry, frosted flakes, even a box of something that Prompto is pretty sure is entirely chocolate masquerading as cereal. He settles for one of the breakfast bars and some orange juice, while Noct loads up on caffeine.

‘Aranea’s already making sure I haven’t been kidnapped,’ Prompto says, waving his phone at Noct to show the message currently on-screen. ‘Think I should tell her that statistically I’m more likely to get mugged in Gralea than I am here?’

Noct snorts.

‘I didn’t think she was the worrying type.’

Prompto answers with a shrug as he bites into his bar and munches through it thoughtfully. Noct knows their story, of course, but Prompto might have left out some of the gorier details about the lives of the kids who floated through the foster system with him.

‘First time I’ve been outside of Niflheim,’ he says. ‘She knows I can look out for myself, but every time she leaves Gralea for work she blows up my phone to make sure I’m okay.’

‘Well, she won’t have to worry for much longer,’ Noct says, sliding onto the seat beside Prompto and nudging him in the hip.

The fact that Aranea’s trip is set to line up with the last week of his visit had just been good timing. Officially, it’s business: presenting her proposal to investors in Insomnia, in a bid to drum up cross-continental funding and convince the board members back home.  _ Un _ officially, Prompto and Noct have been pulling strings to get her to run into Ignis.

Neither Aranea nor Ignis knows anything about this, of course. It’s been next to impossible to keep it that way.

‘I’m pretty sure she’s gonna kill me when she realises what we’re doing,’ Prompto says. ‘If we’re lucky, they’ll get to have dinner first, at least.’

He knows it’s probably a little risky playing matchmaker, but it had been too good of a chance to pass up on — and even though Aranea and Ignis happily went their separate ways after Noct’s retinue departed Gralea, he can’t help thinking they might have really  _ had something _ if they’d only had the time to explore it.

Or maybe he’s just turning into a sentimental idiot. 

‘Okay if I shower?’ he says, slipping down from his seat.

‘Dude, you don’t even need to ask,’ Noct says, making a face. ‘What’s mine is yours. Use the one in my shower room — the pressure’s way better. There’s towels and stuff in there, and you can use whatever you want.’

Prompto knows, without needing to clarify, that when Noct says  _ what’s mine is yours, _ he means it. He could probably pick clothes right out of the guy’s wardrobe and as long as it wasn’t some royal garb, Noct wouldn’t have a problem with it.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that Prompto’s not nervous as  _ hell _ as he makes his way through the apartment, finding his way around. He’s afraid that in his usual clumsy fashion, he’ll bump into something or knock something over, only unlike at home that  _ something _ won’t be cheap junk; it’ll be some priceless work of art or piece of cultural significance.

Okay, so he’s pretty sure Noct doesn’t have anything like that lying around his place, but still. The paranoia is  _ real. _

He somehow makes it back into his room, grabs his clothes, and heads through into Noct’s private bathroom all without incident. He manages to dislodge a bale of towels from the topmost shelf when he goes to grab one, but if a bunch of towels falling on his head is the most disastrous impact he has on the apartment, he’s happy to chalk it up to a win.

The shower, of course, is like nothing he’s ever experienced — better even than the one at the hotel. Even with a day of fun to look forward to with Noct, he’s reluctant to leave it any time soon.

For a little while he just leans back and lets the spray hit his face, exulting. Three more weeks of this and he might get a little  _ too _ used to living in the lap of luxury.

* * *

Although help is never far from the prince, Prompto’s pleased to find Noct doesn’t have to wander around with his entire retinue of guards in tow. Here in Insomnia, Noct is less of a celebrity than Prompto would have thought, and even though staff at all his usual places acknowledge him warmly, he mostly goes ignored.

But then, Prompto supposes that in his dark grey hooded sweatshirt and slouchy jeans, Noct looks just like any other guy their age.

For Prompto’s first real day in town, Noct brings him to a chocobo-themed café for lunch. With Prompto’s belly soundly full, and an officially licensed chocobo plush tucked under his arm, he doesn’t think his day could get much better.

‘Sorry, Noct,’ Prompto says, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder. ‘You spoiled me. Nothing we do after today could possibly live up to this.’

Noct doesn’t seem so convinced, however; he has a wry grin as he turns his head and leaves a peck on Prompto’s cheek. With a rush of heat, Prompto feels the prince’s arm wind around his waist.

‘Don’t count me out just yet,’ Noctis says. ‘There’s still lots I gotta show you.’

They head for a park a little outside the centre of the city, where the buildings are all brownstone homes and up-market eateries. There’s a duck pond in the centre of a grassy area, and Noct leads them to a bench by the water’s edge where he promptly threads their fingers together as soon as they’re seated.

It’s… weird, being so open. Not  _ bad _ weird, just — different. Prompto wants to ask him if they’re going to wind up on the front page of some trashy tabloid together, but he’s afraid to break the normalcy of the moment by reminding the prince of his station.

‘I still kinda can’t believe I’m here,’ Prompto says giddily, hugging his chocobo closer to himself. ‘I keep expecting to wake up in my lumpy bed back home.’

He feels a pinch on his arm; the sensation draws a sharp, high-pitched sound of pain from his lips as he turns to look at Noct indignantly.

‘Just proving you’re not dreaming,’ Noctis says, with an innocent shrug.

In spite of himself, and the slight sting left over from the pinch, Prompto can’t help but smile.

Noct’s looking at him, and when their eyes meet it’s like Prompto’s stomach is trying to flop straight out of him. There’s something in Noct’s eyes, something that makes him feel like he’ll never be happier than he is right here, right now, in this moment.

‘I don’t know,’ Prompto murmurs. ‘I’m not convinced.’

He sees Noct’s lips twist into a wry little smile; sees the corners of his eyes wrinkle. Then the prince is leaning in, and his lips brush soft and cool against Prompto’s, knocking the air out of him.

_ Tabloids, _ Prompto thinks, fleetingly.  _ Paparazzi. Evening news. _

But then Noct’s tongue darts out, teasing his lips open, and there’s no room left in Prompto’s brain for stupid, inconsequential things like  _ words. _

It still amazes Prompto that something as simple and innocent as kissing can send need coursing through him, but there it is. As he feels Noct knot his fingers tighter through his own, he wishes they weren’t in public, that he didn’t have a silly goddamn chocobo plush keeping him from using his other hand, that they had done all this and  _ more _ when Noct had visited Gralea.

He squeezes his thighs together, and even that makes him pant out a little whine against Noct’s lips; the prince pulls away, his eyes hazy as their glances meet, and as he wets his lips with his tongue Prompto can barely stop himself from leaning in for more.

‘Sorry,’ Noct says, his voice hoarse. ‘Got carried away again.’

Prompto shakes his head hurriedly. Tries to come up with some sort of witty reply to dispel the tension, but his heart’s still hammering under his ribs, his thighs still pressed together.

He clears his throat, his voice breaking a little as he does so.  _ Great. _ Totally not embarrassing.

‘Is this… okay?’ he settles for asking. ‘Like…  _ us? _ Together like this?  _ In public?’ _

Noctis gives an undignified snort.

‘I mean, I’m not saying we can run around shoving our tongues down each other’s throats in front of TV cameras,’ the prince says. ‘But my family’s got like… a deal with the press. They leave me alone until I hit 25, and in return we give them some candid shoots and whatnot.’

‘And that  _ works?’ _ Prompto asks, wide-eyed. ‘The paparazzi in Niflheim are vultures, dude.’

Noct shrugs.

‘You get hacks trying to break the rules sometimes,’ he says. ‘There was this one guy, Dino, who just would not leave me alone a few years back. But mostly it works — if there’s a big scoop, they know they’ll get the info straight from us, if they follow the right channels.’

It all sounds a little dubious to Prompto — like it’s relying on professional courtesy and not much else, in an industry where people are notoriously  _ unprofessional. _

‘We’ve got people working for us,’ Noct says, ‘who can make life hell for anybody who keeps breaking the rules. Ever heard the phrase  _ You’ll never work in this town again?’ _

Prompto whistles. Given the impressive size of Noctis’s escort in Gralea, and what he’s learned straight from the prince’s mouth, he’s not about to underestimate his boyfriend’s claims. In a world where royalty is mostly a dated tradition, Prompto gets the impression that the Lucians genuinely love and respect the royal family.

‘So,’ he says sweetly, resting his head against Noct’s. ‘Do you think there’ll be a scoop… about us?’

When Noct doesn’t answer for a while, Prompto feels his blood run cold. Is this the moment where it all falls apart? Where Noct tells him that they can be together for now, but someday he’ll have to marry somebody from a noble family?

Noct breathes out slowly. Squeezes Prompto’s hand.

‘Would that be a problem for you?’ he asks. ‘Having your face in the newspaper?’

Prompto has to think about it for a minute; it’s not something he’s ever really worried about. Sure, he’s wondered what Noct’s father —  _ the king _ — would have to say in an unofficial capacity about their relationship, but something about their private lives being subject to public scrutiny makes it all different.

Suddenly, he’s not sure how to feel.

‘I don’t know,’ Prompto murmurs. ‘I guess I hadn’t really thought about that.’

Noctis lets go of his hand and twists in his seat, tucking one of his legs under himself so he can face Prompto. He rests a hand on Prompto’s thigh and squeezes lightly, leaning close.

‘Whatever you want,’ he says, ‘that’s what  _ I _ want. If you want this to be lowkey, we can make it work. But I mean, if you’re cool with publicity I’m  _ more _ than happy to show you off.’

Prompto knows, as Noct moves close and kisses him, that he’s teasing. Still — it serves to put some of his worries to rest, and he rests his forehead against Noct’s once the kiss ends.

‘Can I keep you to myself?’ he asks. ‘Just a little while longer?’

Noct’s breath is warm against his lips as he puffs out a breath.

‘Of course,’ he replies. ‘As long as you want.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the whole 'you're the prince set to inherit an entire nation and I'm just a lowly commoner and also we can't have children together' issue begins to rear its head. Hm...
> 
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	17. Chapter 17

It’s a hot and humid day, not like anything Prompto’s built for. Even in the air-conditioned confines of Noct’s apartment, he feels like he’s wading through water as he walks. He showers, but he’s clammy again in less than an hour; every attempt at styling his hair, taming it into something resembling straight, fails miserably.

‘Please tell me it’s not going to be like this for the rest of my trip,’ he begs, as Noct looks on in amused sympathy. ‘I can’t take it. I literally am going to die.’

Noct seems thoughtful as he leans against the counter in the kitchenette while Prompto guzzles water. After a pause, he grabs his phone, taps in a message, then puts it away.

‘What’s up?’ Prompto asks. ‘Is this where you reveal you have, like, people who follow you around with fans and ice water?’

‘Nope,’ Noctis says, with a smirk. ‘Gotta suffer through it like anybody else. But I  _ might _ have a way to cool off. You brought trunks, right?’

_ ‘Dude,’ _ Prompto says. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?!’

* * *

_ Later _ isn’t soon enough for Prompto; he spends the rest of the morning after packing languishing in the heat until Gladiolus finally shows up at the apartment to get them. The same driver who brought them into Insomnia is at the wheel today, and after the group piles into the car, he and Gladiolus talk and pretty much leave Noct and Prompto to their devices.

Pelna is the driver’s name, one of the Kingsglaive; he has dark, thick hair swept away from his face, and whenever he glances back in the rearview mirror to check on them, Prompto can’t help noticing how good looking he is, with his deep brown eyes and long lashes.

From what Prompto can tell, the guy’s got a thing for Gladiolus — who is, of course,  _ completely oblivious. _

‘So where’s this pool, anyways?’ Prompto asks, peering out the window. ‘Doesn’t the Citadel have, like, four of ‘em?’

Noct snorts.

‘Who said anything about a pool?’

It had steadily become apparent that they were heading out of town once Prompto saw the scenery change; now that they’ve been on the road for the bones of an hour, putting the city behind them, there are few places Prompto can think that they could be going. There’s a little thrill of excitement over where exactly it is that Noct is taking him — seeing all these new places is a big enough deal as it is; to get to do it with his boyfriend is even better.

‘Shouldn’t be too much farther,’ Gladiolus says. ‘Hope you brought sunblock, blondie.’

Next to him, in the driver’s seat, Pelna laughs; Gladiolus steals a glance at him, and when he looks away there’s a faint smile on his lips.

In the back, Prompto and Noct exchange looks. Prompto’s pretty sure the prince is thinking the same thing.

Prompto doesn’t have to wait too much longer for the mystery to be solved, at least, as he sees a sign overhead indicating a turnoff to the coastal road. His heart skips as it all becomes clear — it’s not a pool they’re headed to, but the beach.

He didn’t even realise Insomnia  _ had _ a coastline, but sure enough there’s an expanse of azure up ahead, sparkling in the sunlight.

‘Whoa,’ Prompto says. ‘No  _ way.’ _

Noct grins.

It’s not a tourist spot, not like the famous one at Galdin Quay — there’s a place for them to park off-road, with an outlook and a couple picnic tables, but to get to the beach itself they have to follow a narrow path through the dunes. They seem to be the only ones around for miles.

Gladiolus takes up the front, with Pelna; in their shorts and tees they don’t exactly  _ look _ the part of a security detail, but they’re still alert as they scope the place out. Prompto can’t think of what sort of threats there might be at the beach, but he guesses they can never be too paranoid when it comes to the crown prince of Lucis.

He’s seen beaches in Niflheim — craggy, barren shorelines along the storm-battered coasts to the west. Here in Lucis, though, the sand is pale and soft, sinking away beneath Prompto’s feet as he steps down onto the beach with Noct. 

‘You should listen to Gladio about the sunblock,’ Noct says. He digs around in the backpack he brought and tosses a bottle of the stuff over to Prompto. ‘You’ll burn to a crisp out here.’

When Prompto checks the bottle, it’s factor 50 — the bottle proclaims it to be for  _ delicate kids’ skin _ and has a picture of a chubby-cheeked baby sitting under a parasol. He makes a face, although his boyfriend just looks blithely back at him.

‘What about you, dude?’ he protests, prodding Noct’s arm.

Noct shrugs.

_ ‘I _ tan,’ he replies.  _ ‘You’re _ the one who said you turn into a lobster.’

Grudgingly, Prompto has to give him that one. At least the stuff smells nice.

Once he’s down to his bathing suit, he spends the next while spraying it liberally over his skin. He can already feel the heat of the sun prickling at him, threatening to burn; he wonders if he should’ve applied the stuff  _ before _ getting out of the car. Too late to worry now.

His back presents somewhat of a dilemma. He can reach his shoulders, and the bottom half of his torso; the rest he can’t quite seem to stretch to. Glancing toward the others — Gladio and Pelna have taken up a spot a ways off down the beach where they stand talking by the water’s edge — Prompto turns sheepishly to Noct and proffers the sunblock in his hand.

‘You mind getting my back?’ he asks shyly. ‘Can’t reach.’

He turns around, facing out onto the water as Noct works. He tries not to focus too much on the feel of his hands between his shoulder blades, on the warmth of his touch as it moves down his spine.

He  _ tries, _ but it’s another matter as Noct’s hands move to his hips, and Prompto feels the brush of lips on the back of his neck.

It’s a good thing the others are standing so far away; a  _ real _ good thing, he thinks, as Noct nips gently at his shoulder.

‘Did I get everywhere?’

Prompto tries to think laterally. Tries to ignore the way his skin’s turned to goosebumps in spite of the heat of the sun on it.

He tries to speak, but all that comes out is a very ineloquent  _ ‘Uhhh…’ _

Behind him, Noct chuckles. His teeth nip at Prompto’s shoulder again, and then he pulls away, leaving the ghost of his touch at Prompto’s hips.

Prompto watches Noct take off at a jog toward the water’s edge, his own heart thudding away within his chest. He’s not quite sure how to take control of his legs; would be content to stand there dumbly and watch Noct go, if the prince didn’t glance back over his shoulder with a cheeky grin that seems every bit an invitation.

Chewing his lip, Prompto hesitates for just a beat before taking off after him.

* * *

Prompto’s first thought, as he flops onto his back with a heaving chest after the past twenty minutes straight of dicking around in the water with Noct, is how  _ great _ it is to spend some uninterrupted time together without worrying about anyone or anything else.

His second thought, as Noct drops down beside him and swoops in to press a kiss to his cheek, is that he’s already dreading the end of his trip.

He wants to make some quip about skipping his flight home in a few weeks; to make a half-joking, half-earnest suggestion about staying here for good.

The words are muddled up in his head, slowly but surely coming unravelled as he teases them into some semblance of order — and he might even have gotten around to making his little admission if Gladio and Pelna hadn’t chosen that moment to return to them.

‘Should probably leave soon, Princess,’ Gladiolus says. He looks unfazed by the sun beating down on them, his tanned skin glinting almost gold in the light.

‘Already?’ Prompto whines. ‘We’ve only been here a couple hours.’

‘You’re burning, blondie,’ Gladiolus replies, gesturing to him. ‘Think it’s been long enough?’

Prompto opens his mouth to whine in protest, but when Noct reaches out and pokes him lightly in the shoulder it hurts way more than it should.

‘He’s not wrong, dude,’ Noct says.

Sure enough, when Prompto looks down his skin’s already an angry pink hue. Another couple hours and it’ll be beet red — not exactly a flattering look. Now that he’s aware of it, he thinks he feel heat across his cheeks, too.

Still, he’s already been through the worst of the damage. No harm in sticking around for just a bit more.

‘Can we stay a  _ little _ while longer?’ Prompto pleads. ‘I’m having fun.’

He watches as Noct glances up at Gladiolus, and they have one of their typical silent battles over dominance. Even though Ignis seems like a hardass, he’s more often than not the one who winds up giving in to Noct’s attempts at persuasion; in his absence, however, it’s Pelna that proves to be the decider.

‘Let ‘em have a couple more minutes,’ the glaive says. ‘Orders were to have them in the city limits by dark — still plenty of time.’

It niggles at Prompto to hear of  _ orders —  _ to be reminded that Noct must have itineraries for everywhere he goes, everything he does, everyone he meets. Today was probably as nice of a slice of normalcy for the crown prince as it was for him.

‘Fine,’ Gladiolus mutters. ‘But we’re gettin’ somethin’ to eat on the road. I’m starved.’

Noct’s on his feet with a grin; he reaches out and takes Prompto’s hand to help him up. He holds it all the way back into the water, where he turns and grips Prompto’s wrist in both hands, yanking him into the waves.

As Prompto tumbles, squealing, into the water, he wishes today would never end.

* * *

For the better part of the afternoon since they got back, Prompto and Noct have been playing a fighting game. It’s something low-budget and awful — where the characters have something Noct ashamedly refers to as  _ jiggle physics _ — but it’s surprisingly fun. Especially when Prompto realises there’s a character who looks a little like Aranea, complete with terrifying armour, who also has some of the most badass combos in the whole game.

‘You’re cheating,’ Noct says, after losing four out of five matches. ‘You’ve  _ gotta _ be cheating. I thought you said you never played this before.’

Prompto shrugs complacently; when Noct disappears for a moment to grab him a bottle of chilled juice from the refrigerator, he gladly accepts it.

‘I’ve got a strategy for these games,’ Prompto says, with a lazy yawn. ‘Memorise one or two combos, and the rest is all button-mashing.’

Noct rounds on him as he flops into his seat, his gaze shrewd.

‘Button-mashing?’ he counters. ‘Y’know, that’s kinda cheating too.’

Prompto snorts.

‘Is not.’

The prince, however, is unwilling to relent — he takes the controller out of Prompto’s lap and sets it aside, kneeling on the sofa beside him with a pointedly accusing glare.

‘Is too,’ he retorts.

For maybe a fraction of a second, Prompto thinks Noct is genuinely annoyed; he sees the facade of irritation flicker briefly, however, as a smirk shines through. So Noct is  _ toying _ with him? Game on.

‘What can I say?’ Prompto says, stretching his arms out above him and sinking into the sofa. ‘I’m just better than you. Raw talent, dude.’

He sees the little look on Noct’s face as he weighs his options. He even sees the way Noct’s eyes flit down to his lips, like he’s considering making a move. Silently, holding his breath, Prompto hopes he does.

But Noct doesn’t — even though he gets really close as though he’s going to, close enough that Prompto can do little more than exhale slowly when their glances meet. Instead, the prince narrows his eyes shrewdly, moves a little closer, and swoops in with an onslaught of relentless tickles.

_ This _ is cheating, Prompto decides, as he succumbs to the attack. He’s barely able to catch his breath for laughing so hard, and even as he falls back on the couch with Noctis over him, gulping for air, the prince doesn’t let up.

Prompto’s cheeks are burning with heat, tears of laughter squeezing out of the corners of his closed eyes. It’s unbearable, but even just this silly, stupid act of playfulness is something he wishes he could hold onto.

Before long, though, it’s too much — the sunburn from earlier has made his skin hot and tight, and his tee chafes at it as Noct inflicts his unrelenting onslaught of tickles upon him. Prompto’s laughter soon turns to moans of pain, and a frantic ‘Ow, ow, ow!’ finally alerts Noct enough for him to stop.

When he cracks his eyes open, cautiously, Noct is watching him with a sheepish look on his face.

‘It’s pretty bad, huh?’ the prince asks.

He leans back, enough to let Prompto sit up and gingerly inspect the damage; when Prompto tugs his shirt off over his head and twists to get a proper look, his shoulders are a vivid red, and he can feel the heat coming off them.

‘Oh, geez,’ Noct mutters. ‘That doesn’t look too good.’

Prompto nods.

It’s not so bad, he figures, when Noct reaches out and brushes gentle fingertips across his collarbone — although it still stings, and he’s wincing before long. He’s paying for their little excursion, and it’ll only get worse.

‘Don’t s’pose you’ve got any aloe vera?’ Prompto asks ruefully, remembering Pelna’s advice.

Noct shakes his head.

‘Could probably get some, though. There’s a flower store close by.’

Prompto sighs — it sounds a lot like effort — but before he can think to tell Noct not to bother, the prince is rising to his feet. Prompto makes a half-hearted grab for his arm; Noct easily sidesteps around it.

‘Be right back,’ he says. ‘You want I can grab some pizza on the way back. Pepperoni?’

Prompto chews his lip. Pizza  _ does _ sound good…

‘I’ll come with—’ he says, but Noct cuts him off with a tussle of his hair.

‘Sit here. Chill out. I’ll be back soon.’

* * *

Prompto must have drifted off; he wakes to a cool, gentle touch on his upper back. When he turns his head from where he lies face-down on the sofa, he sees Noct kneeling beside him, working diligently with one hand while the other holds a spiky potted plant.

Noctis hasn’t realised Prompto’s awake yet; for a little while Prompto watches as he sets about carefully dabbing what is presumably aloe vera across the burns. He’s careful and methodical, and the stuff is immediately soothing — Prompto can’t help letting out a sigh of relief as the constant throbbing of the burn abates somewhat under Noct’s touch.

‘Hey,’ the prince says, setting the pot aside. ‘I was gonna wake you but… you looked peaceful.’

Prompto gives a sleepy shake of his head.

‘That’s okay,’ he murmurs. ‘Sorry I crashed out.’

‘S’all right,’ Noct replies. ‘Took a little longer than I meant to — I couldn’t find anything at the store so I had to call Iggy to borrow one of his plants.’

When Prompto glances down at the aloe vera, he notices for the first time that it’s potted in an old coffee tin. Somehow, he’d never thought Ignis the upcycling type. He can imagine Aranea getting a little kick out of it.

‘Pizza’s here, too,’ Noct says, gesturing to the coffee table where a stack of boxes clutters its surface. 

The smell of it coaxes a rumble out of Prompto’s belly, but it can wait — what Noct’s doing with the aloe vera is the first relief he’s had from the sunburn in hours.

‘Would you keep doing that for a little while?’ Prompto asks, gesturing to the plant. ‘Feels good.’

Dutifully, Noct nods.

He covers most of Prompto’s upper back and shoulders first, carefully blotting the worst parts with the salve and rubbing it in where the burn is less intense. Once he’s done, he nudges Prompto to sit up and moves onto the front of his shoulders.

Prompto doesn’t think he’s ever had the opportunity to see his boyfriend so attentive — at least, not up close. As Noct carefully breaks off another stem and sets to work again, tilting his head slightly the better to see as he dabs it across Prompto’s collarbone, Prompto can’t help feeling a little rush of pleasure.

It’s not the contact — although that’s nice too, and definitely feels better with every little dab of the salve across scorched skin. Instead, it’s the simple delight in being tended to so sweetly, the intent look on Noct’s features as he goes.

Noct moves to Prompto’s face last of all. He’s even gentler here, careful not to get any in Prompto’s eyes as he smears it over his cheeks. When the prince is done, he taps Prompto playfully on the end of the nose with the stem.

Prompto decides he has never wanted to kiss Noct more than right now, as he watches his face shift into a shy smile. Prompto lets the urge sweep him up, lets it wash over him; lifts his hands to cup Noct’s cheeks and pulls him in close until their lips meet.

He’s shirtless in the living room of the crown prince of Lucis, aloe vera spread across his shoulders and face — there’s a stack of pizzas a few feet away, filling the apartment with the scent of tomato, pepperoni and grease — and yet as Noctis curls a hand against his chest and responds in kind to the kiss, this moment couldn’t possibly be any better.

When they part afterwards, Noct’s blue eyes are wide. It’s like he can’t quite get used to the fact that they can just  _ kiss _ each other, whenever they feel like it.

Prompto can relate.

‘What was that for?’ Noct asks, his lips finally twisting up in a sly smirk.

With a shrug, Prompto scooches away a bit and reaches over to the boxes on the coffee table to help himself. He opens the one on top only to see that it’s ham and pineapple — as much as Noct hates pineapple on pizza, utterly  _ detests _ it, he went out of his way to get some just for Prompto. It’s just another little thing that plucks at the strings in Prompto’s chest and makes him wish all the more that he never had to leave.

‘For the trip to the beach,’ Prompto replies, belatedly, with a grin. ‘And the aloe vera.’

He sets the box aside, and once Noct’s made himself comfortable on the seat of the couch beside him, he hands over a box of regular pepperoni.

‘And maybe for looking after me, too,’ he adds quietly.

Noct waves it off with a careless shrug and a scoff.

‘It’s nothing, dude. It was my fault you got burned.’

Prompto could argue that he’d happily endure much worse than sunburn just to get to spend time with his boyfriend, but he figures it might be a little  _ too _ corny of a thing to say. He settles for grabbing a slice of pizza and sinking his teeth into it, giving an appreciative moan as the cheese melts in his mouth.

‘Mmfff, so good,’ he says through a mouthful of it, leaning his head on Noct’s shoulder with a sigh of contentment.

At his side, Noct pats him tentatively on the arm, careful to avoid the sunburn.

‘Do me a favour?’ Noct asks.

Prompto pulls away and looks expectantly at the prince.

‘Yeah?’ he says. ‘Anything.’

In front of him, Noct wrinkles his nose with a poisonous glance toward Prompto’s pizza box.

‘If you’re gonna kiss me again,’ Noct says, ‘keep that grossness away from me. Pineapple on pizza is  _ nasty.’ _


	18. Chapter 18

So much of everything back home in Gralea is disappointing up close. The parliament buildings  _ seem _ impressive from afar, until you’re actually there and can see the faded and peeling paint; the municipal parks  _ look _ lush and green, until you step onto the grass and find it brittle from neglect.

Insomnia is… different. It’s shiny and dazzling in parts, austerely regal in others — and when you see it face to face, it loses none of its lustre.

Take the Citadel: a glimmering goliath at the heart of the city, at once a symbol of the omnipresence of the monarchy, and a beacon of reassurance. Wherever you go, the Citadel looms like a sentinel — the seat of the throne from which the benevolent king rules with a tender hand.

To Prompto, on his first visit, it’s mostly just  _ intimidating. _

Noct treats the place like home — which makes sense, given that he grew up here, but it had been no less weird to see him shoot the shit with the guard stationed at the checkpoint on the gate, as though they were  _ buddies, _ before driving on through.

It’s also still a little weird to see Noct behind the wheel, but Prompto has a feeling he’s about to see a lot weirder on his first tour of the official residence of the Lucian royal family.

‘We gotta check in with Iggy first,’ Noct explains, as he steers the car underground. ‘He’s got some official bullshit to go over with you before you can be allowed to roam around.’

This part, Prompto’s more than a little daunted by. He already had to forward a thick stack of documentation to the Lucians, signed and notarised first by Niflian clerks, and then by officials at the Lucian embassy. That had been an ordeal that he’s in no way eager to repeat — just tracking down all the addresses he grew up in, after bouncing from home to family and back again, had taken weeks.

‘Do they think I’m gonna, like… try to kill you?’ Prompto had meekly asked.

Noct had snorted.

‘They’re still stuck in the past, before the war ended. Don’t worry — it’ll be fine.’

_ It’ll be fine. _ Easy for Noct to say, when he’s surrounded by all this formality every day of his life. To see him, in his black tee and baggy cargo shorts, his demeanour the  _ epitome _ of laid back, you’d never know it.

Ignis, at least, greets Prompto warmly as they arrive in the reception area. He’s got a clipboard under his arm, but first of all he has a lanyard for Prompto with the letters  _ VIP _ emblazoned above his details, along with a picture of his face.

‘Oh,’ he says, wrinkling his nose as he slips it over his head. ‘If I knew you guys were gonna print that, I would’ve sent a better picture.’

Noct inspects the lanyard for a moment before knocking Prompto gently in the arm with his elbow.

‘I think you look cute,’ he says, slyly.

There’s a polite cough from Ignis. Prompto may not know the guy well, but he can recognise this cue that says PDA makes him a little uncomfortable.

‘Onto the difficult part,’ Ignis says, with an apologetic smile, handing the clipboard to Prompto. ‘I’ll take you through the protocol for visitors, and what’s expected of you while you’re here.’

A lot of it is basic stuff — no weapons on the premises, no threatening behaviour, submit to a body search if requested at any point, yada yada yada. There’s a weird clause about chocobos being prohibited within the walls of the Citadel, but Ignis waves it off as though it’s nothing new.

‘Never mind that,’ he says. ‘Some of these rules haven’t changed since the late King Mors was a boy.’

All in all it takes maybe forty-five minutes to go through everything, but Ignis helps him every step of the way, and Noct’s there to provide him with periodic distractions to let his brain recover. By the end of it, Prompto never wants to sign his name again; he lost count of how many times he committed it to paper after the first twenty.

‘That’s it,’ Ignis says brightly, tucking the paperwork under his arm. ‘As a formality I’ll have to accompany you for the tour, but after that I’ll leave you both to it.’

Ignis, at least, proves a better tour guide than the prince; whereas Noct seems content to flatly point things out to Prompto with very little explanation as to what they are, Ignis gives him all the details. He runs through the artwork in the lobby, supposedly depicting some sort of prophecy related to the Lucian line; from his bright eyes and candid tone, it’s easy to see he has a great interest in this sort of stuff.

They visit training rooms; vast, sun-dappled libraries; even a wing of the palace dedicated to research and development.

‘I’d show you around,’ Ignis says as they pass the latter, ‘but I’m afraid even His Highness doesn’t have access to much of the projects underway in there.’

Something about his tone suggests that while this privileged information is outside of Noct’s clearance, Ignis doesn’t have that same barrier.

‘The throne room,’ Ignis says, at last, bringing them to a huge set of double doors.

They’re gilded and ornate, and they look older than anything Prompto has ever seen. It’s weird to think that beyond those doors lies the throne which Noct will someday inherit — the symbol of his legacy.

‘Is…?’ Prompto asks in a hush, looking up at the elaborate motif painted onto the inlay of the doors.

Noct seems to tell what he’s getting at without the words ever being said. With a little chuckle, he shakes his head.

‘My old man hates it in there,’ he says. ‘He’s almost as bad at this whole royalty thing as I am.’

‘That’s a bit of a reach,’ Ignis replies, with a fond smile.

The throne room, at least, is one place of interest which Prompto  _ is _ allowed to enter. There’s a sign declaring it open to the public during select hours of the week, but their tour coincides with a cessation in public access so they have the place to themselves.

The guards posted outside the entrance make a grand gesture of opening the doors, each straining under the considerable weight of the door in their grasp.

They couldn’t have picked a better day to show up — the sun casts beams of light through the windows, illuminating the throne where it sits at the top of a grand staircase. The room is silent and still, undisturbed by the bustle of the Citadel staff; when Prompto steps in, his footsteps echo against the polished marble floor.

‘Whoa,’ he gasps, and his voice ricochets back to him.

For a while, all he can do is slowly turn and take everything in. Even after seeing the opulent hallways of the Citadel, the throne room is beyond compare. He’s Moogled shots of the palace, of course, but nothing could compare to the reality.

‘So this’ll be yours someday?’ he asks, turning around to face the others. The prince and Ignis both watch him with almost identical expressions of amusement.

‘Yup,’ Noct says. ‘Wanna give it a whirl?’

On the outside, it’s probably comical how long Prompto spends blankly staring at his boyfriend. He can’t quite seem to put the words together for what they mean — not until Noct takes his hand and gently leads him toward the steps up to the throne and takes them with him, one by one.

The throne looks bigger up close: bigger, and yet somehow less terrifying. Even though the smooth surfaces are polished, there’s a slight indentation in the seat of it where the king — Noct’s father — must have spent many an hour carrying out his duties to the people of Lucis.

When Prompto sinks into it, he gets a birds-eye view of the throne room, and of Ignis watching with a faint smile from his spot near the door.

‘This is awesome,’ Prompto says giddily, settling his hands on the armrests to either side of him.

Noct snorts.

‘It’s pretty fun when it’s still a novelty,’ he replies. ‘Soon you start to realise it’s just a chair.’

Noct gives him a little while to enjoy his lofty perch — and Prompto makes the most of it, smoothing his hands over the gold detailing on the wood. He tries to imagine what it must be like to rule from up here, to imagine what it’s like for Noct to know this will be  _ his _ throne someday. He can’t even begin to wrap his mind around it.

‘You never told me we had a visitor today, Noctis.’

The voice is soft, kindly — and yet it echoes around the cavernous walls of the throne room and resonates straight into Prompto’s chest, making his blood freeze. Whoever it belongs to, they don’t sound angry; but it’s the voice of a grown man, seemingly one of authority, and given that Prompto currently sits in the throne of the king of Lucis, that’s not a good thing.

Noct grabs his hand, tugging at it. Reflexively, without even thinking, he hurriedly gets to his feet.

‘I was just—’ Noct blurts.

The man standing at the entrance shakes his head, raising a hand to cut the prince off. King Regis seems small where he stands so far away, yet there can be no mistaking who he is, courtesy of the crown he wears, not unlike the horn of a dragon. He shares some of Noct’s features, although there’s more in common between them in the mischievous smile he wears. At his side is a tall man with broad shoulders and an intimidating stare, although his lips seem to be turned up in an amused smirk.

‘Let’s save the explanations, shall we?’ the king says. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your guest?’

Noct clutches Prompto’s hand all the tighter as they make their way down the steps. Their feet seem to thunder as they go, and Prompto’s all too aware of the street clothes he’s wearing — definitely nothing fit for meeting a king.

‘I was going to,’ Noct says. ‘Just wanted to find the right moment.’

The king waves his hand permissively.

‘Now is as good a time as any, surely.’

Noct doesn’t seem to have a retort for that. He turns and looks at Prompto — shoots him and apologetic glance — before gesturing awkwardly to him.

‘Prompto,’ Noct says. ‘This is my father, uh — His Royal Majesty King Regis Lucis Caelum. Dad, this is Prompto Argentum, my—’

‘Friend,’ Prompto interjects. ‘Y- Your Majesty.’

He does it out of habit, out of panic, out of instinct — whatever the reason, he  _ thinks _ he’s saving Noctis from the embarrassment of having  _ that _ conversation with his father until he hazards a look over at Noct and finds him staring back in surprise.

‘The boyfriend, is it?’ the king replies, looking Prompto over. ‘I was wondering when I’d have the pleasure of meeting you.’

As Prompto bends over at the middle in a haphazard bow, he’s aware of the king stepping forward and proffering a hand. For an awkward while the two of them remain like this until Noct elbow Prompto in the side, and he shoots upright.

‘There’s no need to stand on ceremony,’ the king says warmly. When Prompto self-consciously sticks his hand out, the king grasps it tightly in both of his own, shaking it firmly. ‘A guest of my son is a guest of my own. Please — if you would do me the pleasure of attending dinner this evening, I’d love to get to know the young man Noctis speaks so fondly of.’

For a moment all Prompto can do is splutter, red in the face, while the king still tightly grips his hand. It occurs to him, in a haze, that dinner with the king of Lucis — and the father of his boyfriend — is probably a terrible idea. Somehow, though, in the grip of this warm, kindly man, who in spite of his frail stature could probably cut him in half with a flick of a blade, he finds himself powerless to refuse.

‘O- of course,’ he stutters. ‘I’d love to.’

The king’s features morph into an almost roguish grin. It’s the same look Noct gets when he’s up to no good.

‘Wonderful,’ he says. ‘I’ll have someone make the arrangements.’

* * *

They pretty much gave up on the tour after their encounter with King Regis, retreating to the safety of Noct’s quarters in the Citadel. Prompto had almost been too embarrassed by the whole thing to pay attention to the place as he walked in.  _ Almost. _ Even now, playing games on an ancient console from the foot of Noct’s bed, Prompto can’t help but wonder how his boyfriend grew up in this place and turned out to be so… well,  _ normal. _

‘Ugh,’ Prompto says, as a fresh wave of shame washes over him. It’s been an hour since the incident — he doesn’t think he’s going to recover any time soon.

‘You feeling okay?’ Noct asks, casting a worried glance towards him. ‘We can bail on dinner, if you want.’

Hurriedly, Prompto shakes his head.

‘I can’t flake out on dinner with the king!’ he blurts. ‘I’m just… still kicking myself over how we met. I was sitting on his  _ throne, _ dude.’

Noct shrugs.

‘It was my idea,’ he says. ‘Besides, he knows I’m crazy about you. That’s all he cares about.’

Even though they’ve said as much to each other in the time that they’ve officially been together, it still makes Prompto’s heart skip to hear it aloud. It’s almost enough to shove the shame of everything to the back of his head for a little while.

‘I wanted to make a good first impression, is all,’ Prompto murmurs. He pauses the game and sets the controller aside, flopping back onto the bed. ‘Guess I can throw that out the window.’

He covers his face with his hands, just about stuffling the low groan that slips from his throat. He wonders if he’ll  _ ever _ live this down.

After a moment, the bed dips and he feels Noct’s weight settle down beside him, his warmth pressing up close. The prince slips an arm around him, and soft lips find a bare patch of skin where the collar of his shirt has pulled aside.

‘He’s gonna love you,’ Noct murmurs. ‘’Cause I do.’

That feeling is back — the little flutter in Prompto’s heart.

He shifts, turning onto his side to face Noct, and slips his hand through the prince’s dark hair. They settle nose to nose, and it’s comforting and nice, a moment of reassuring solace.

‘We can still cancel, babe,’ Noct says gently. ‘He won’t mind, honest.’

Prompto breathes out a sigh. Slowly, he shakes his head.

‘Nah,’ he says. ‘I’ll regret it if I don’t. When else am I gonna get the chance to wine and dine with my boyfriend’s dad — the king of Lucis! Nobody’s gonna believe me if I ever tell ‘em about it.’

He watches Noct’s lips curve into a contented smile. Sleepily, the prince closes his eyes and leans in, nestling his head against Prompto’s shoulder.

‘You’re a dork,’ he says. ‘I love you.’

Prompto wouldn’t be surprised if Noct could feel the way his heart picks up again. They’ve said it countless times — I’m crazy about you, I think about you all the time,  _ I love you _ — but he still feels like a giddy schoolboy with his first crush every time he hears it.

He stretches up and touches a kiss to the top of Noct’s head; hears the prince hum in satisfaction against his shoulder in response.

‘I love you too,’ Prompto murmurs.

He counts himself lucky that he didn’t get tried for treason today; hopefully he can make it through dinner without screwing up too badly, too.


	19. Chapter 19

Dinner with the king is not, as Prompto had feared, a stately affair. Instead it’s a cosy meal up in a small dining room, at which Ignis, Gladio and the king’s shield — Clarus — are all in attendance.

Clarus was in the throne room earlier; after Prompto learned that he’s Gladiolus’s father, it was easy to see the resemblance if only in the way they carry themselves.

‘How long did you say you were staying, Prompto?’ the king asks, spearing a piece of quiche with his fork as he meets Prompto’s eye across the table.

Even though King Regis has proved himself to be less the aloof monarch that Prompto pictured him to be, his piercing glance still makes for an intimidating spotlight to be under. Prompto can’t help but feel like there’s something more to the question — some implied query into how he and Noct intend to spend the rest of their time together — but when he forces himself to look up at the king, he finds the man inspecting his food with some interest before popping the forkful into his mouth.

‘Um, a few weeks, Your M- uh, sir,’ Prompto stutters. ‘I just wish it was longer.’

‘Me too,’ Noct murmurs, so quietly nobody else should be able to hear — although when Prompto shoots a look toward King Regis, he sees the man wearing a smile.

‘I’m sure you’re eager to get to know the city,’ the king replies. ‘I’m rather ashamed that I spent more time venturing outside Insomnia’s walls in my youth than I ever did exploring the Crown City.’

‘It’s a beautiful place,’ Prompto says. ‘I think I like it better than Gralea. But — it’s so  _ big, _ I don’t even know where to start.’

He keeps the fact that he’d rather spend every waking moment with Noct than exploring the city to himself; he’s not so sure that’s the sort of thing to say to the king over dinner.

‘You’re already well-acquainted with the throne room, at least,’ King Regis says, before blithely popping a forkful of food into his mouth.

At Prompto’s side, Noct chokes and splutters on his water — it only makes matters worse when Gladio gives a big, full-bellied laugh. Clearly the stories have made the rounds.

‘I’m so sorry about that, sir,’ Prompto says as his cheeks flame. ‘I probably broke about a billion laws, huh?’

Gladiolus seems finally to have gotten himself under wraps — after some pointed looks across the table from his father — but it’s the king himself who’s chuckling now, his fond glance trained on Noct.

‘I’m sure we can make an exception for you, young man,’ the king says, looking to Prompto. ‘Besides, I’d have to punish Noctis too, and the Astrals know his punishments never quite seem to stick.’

The ripple that passes across the dinner table is almost imperceptible, but it’s there; Prompto catches Ignis meeting Gladio’s eye with a subtle smile, and Clarus quietly coughs into his fist. Noct has told him some stuff from his childhood, but there’s still so much Prompto feels like he has to learn.

‘You mean you weren’t always the upstanding young royal that I know and love?’ Prompto says, lifting a hand to his mouth in mock surprise.

‘Hardly,’ Ignis retorts, with a scoff.

‘Don’t  _ you _ start,’ Noct says. ‘I didn’t see you stepping up in the throne room to tell us it was a bad idea.’

There’s a little heat to Ignis’s cheeks, Prompto thinks, as he glances away evasively. 

‘We used to keep track of all the international incidents His Highness almost caused,’ Gladio says. ‘We lost count after a while.’

‘Hey!’ Noct protests. ‘Quit ganging up on me!’

Prompto laughs — the first unselfconscious one he’s made since sitting down to dinner — and stealthily grabs the prince’s hand under the table.

‘You were always a nightmare as a child, sire,’ Clarus says, with a candid glance toward the king. ‘We might argue that he was only following in your footsteps.’

Noctis nods his head triumphantly.

‘See?’ he says. ‘Thanks for sticking up for me, Clarus.’

‘Oh, I haven’t forgiven you for the incident with the chandelier in the Great Hall,’ the man replies, levelling Noct with a piercing stare that’s only softened by the wry smile he wears. ‘Your father may have been bad, but you were  _ worse.’ _

All of it — the banter, the tales from the past, the way Gladio’s roaring laughter washes over the table — makes this feel more like some family gathering than dinner with the royal family. Maybe it’s just the little sips of wine Prompto’s been having between bites, but he can feel a warmth filling him, from top to toe.

It’s something Prompto never really had as a kid, and it’s not what he expected when sitting down to dinner with the king. Rocky though their first meeting might have been, he thinks things are looking up.

‘This is nice,’ he murmurs, leaning close to Noct’s ear.

Noct gives his hand a squeeze. Prompto wonders if they should be holding hands at the dinner table, right in front of the king — is there etiquette to this? — but Noct doesn’t seem to care.

‘Yeah,’ Noct agrees. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

* * *

With a few stories from Noct’s childhood under Prompto’s belt — mostly warping-related incidents, each more ridiculous than the last — they leave the dining room close to eleven with bellies full of food and cheeks hurting from so much laughter.

There had been tales of King Regis’s antics, too: spells gone awry during training; an embarrassing encounter with a Niflian diplomat during tense political relations, when he’d greeted the woman’s intern instead of her.

It might not make up for a lifetime without knowing each other, but Prompto feels he’s gotten to see a side of Noct — and his dad — that he might not have, otherwise.

‘You wanna play something?’ Noct asks, as he kicks off his shoes and climbs onto his bed.

He seems smaller somehow, in the grand surroundings of his old bedroom at the Citadel. Even though there are personal touches everywhere — clutter spilling over on the desk and shelves, posters of bands Noct used to listen to — it’s impossible to miss the ornate wallpaper, or the huge windows looking out over the city with the kind of view an ordinary citizen would kill for.

Prompto moves to the window now and looks through it, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I dunno,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I’m kinda beat.’

‘Call it a night?’ Noct suggests.

Outside, the lights of the city pierce through the dark of the night. It’s even harder to see the stars out here than in Gralea, thanks to the light pollution; there’s a faint sprinkling of them just visible in the distance, though — just enough to remind Prompto that they’re there.

‘Come to bed.’

He glances back and finds Noct beckoning him over. With a little nod of his head, Prompto turns and trudges across the carpeted floor.

He’s drained from all the chatting and laughter — and from trying to be on his best behaviour — but he feels too restless to sleep, too. Still, he toes off his sneakers and sets to work wriggling out of his clothes. He climbs under the covers once he’s down to his shirt and undies.

‘You think your dad liked me?’ he asks, barely stifling a yawn.

Without missing a beat, Noct nods.

‘I haven’t seen him laugh so hard in years,’ he says. ‘I’m really glad you got to meet him. He’s usually so busy I hardly see him.’

Prompto lets an easy smile spread across his face. If King Regis likes him — or, at the very least, doesn’t  _ hate _ him — then he’s happy.

He snuggles under the blankets, pulling them under his chin. With sleepy eyes he looks over at Noct from where he’s practically hidden away beneath the covers.

‘We could… watch something?’ Noct says.

Prompto shrugs.

‘Sure.’

He curls up on his side and watches through his eyelashes as Noct putters about. There’s a TV recessed into the wall across from the bed, smaller than the one in his apartment but still huge by Prompto’s standards.

They watch anime once Noct undresses and climbs into bed. It’s something they’ve both watched long-distance together, and even though it’s old it’s a good one. Still, it’s not enough to keep Prompto’s attention; in the darkness of the bedroom, with only the glow of the TV screen to light things up, he curls close to Noct and settles his head on the prince’s chest.

He’s not really paying attention, his eyes heavy-lidded as he stares at the screen. He’s more aware of the steady rise and fall of Noct’s chest, and of the rhythm of his heartbeat. Lazily, he plays his hand across Noct’s stomach, through the material of his shirt.

‘That tickles,’ Noct says softly. He doesn’t sound bothered — doesn’t push Prompto away.

It’s nice — more than nice — to laze around together like this. In the quiet hours so late at night, it feels as though the world belongs to them.

Prompto traces his fingers down, tugs at the hem of Noct’s shirt. The prince’s skin is warm underneath, and he lays his palm flat against Noct’s stomach to soak the heat in.

Beside him, Noct makes a soft sound, sleepy and content.

It’s enough to drag Prompto’s glance upwards, settling on Noct’s face — even sleepy and cast in the glare of the TV as it is, Prompto can’t help but think how beautiful the prince is, how he could spend hours kissing him.

He stretches up to touch a kiss to Noct’s lips, and even though it’s chaste enough he lets it linger. Soon Noct’s slipping a hand into his hair, gently cupping the back of his head and angling him into the kiss. Prompto’s hand is still under the layer of Noct’s shirt; he guides it upwards to Noct’s ribs, across to the front of his chest, and beneath his touch he can feel the heavy, steady thud of the prince’s heart.

It’s getting faster, he thinks. When he opens his mouth, experimentally darting his tongue out to flit against Noct’s lips, he  _ knows _ it is.

Another sound issues from Noct, this one a little gruff, a little more needy. This time, when Prompto slips his tongue out again, Noct meets it with his own.

Static surges through Prompto — from his heart and all the way through him. He can feel the back of his neck prickling, can feel heat swirling and subsuming his skin. Noct’s flesh bursts into goosebumps under his fingertips and he grazes his nails gently down Noct’s side, relishing the way the prince shivers under his ministrations.

‘Prompto…’ Noct murmurs.

It’s not a call to stop. It’s a plea for more: one which Prompto gladly answers, his hand gliding downward to Noct’s hip, gripping gently at the jut of it. He feels Noct arch up against his touch, and with a dizzying rush he realises what the prince is asking for.

They’ve talked about not rushing things — but how could they be rushing it when the timing feels so right?

He stops to take stock of things, pulling back to meet Noct’s eye. There’s an intensity to Noct’s gaze, even though he looks a little loopy and blissed out — he wets his lips and pushes the covers out of the way, and moves to cover Prompto’s hand with his own, gently nudging it downwards.

‘You want me to…?’ Prompto asks, quiet as he can, lest he should break the spell they’re under.

Slowly, shyly, Noct nods.

When Prompto glances down, he gets all the visual confirmation he needs — tighty whiteys don’t exactly leave much to the imagination, and he feels a tug of wanting deep within himself to know that Noct longs for him, too.

It feels like they’re at a threshold, and they won’t be able to go back once they’ve crossed the line. Nevertheless — in spite of the nerves jangling at him, in spite of the sweat prickling under his arms — Prompto moves until he’s kneeling over Noct and leans in close, using one hand to brace him as his mouth seeks out the prince’s, and guiding the other down and down, to where Noct’s body rises to meet him.

Their kisses are tentative and shy, like they haven’t already shared so many, like they’re just finding each other for the first time — yet as Prompto feels Noct’s heat beneath his touch, his body aches for the prince, for all the touches they could have shared if only they’d known sooner, if only…

Prompto’s trembling, he realises; Noct might be, too. He lets out a shuddering breath against Noct’s lips and feels a gentle touch at his cheek, coaxing him to look up and meet the prince’s eye.

‘We don’t need to do this right now, if you don’t want to,’ Noct says.

Prompto shakes his head. His heart’s in his throat; his chest feels like it’s going to burst.

‘I feel like I’ll go crazy if I don’t,’ he says.

Tenderly, Noct brushes the hair out of Prompto’s eyes, pushes it behind his ear. There’s something in his glance that says he feels the same.

His eyes say  _ this is good, this is right. _ They say  _ this is all I want. _

* * *

Prompto can barely keep his eyes open, but he’s scared to fall asleep — scared he’ll wake up and everything will have been a dream.

Noct seems to have no such reservations, drifting off a long while ago with ease. It’s something of a wonder to watch him in such a state of deep restfulness, his features unmarred by worry or regret.

Part of Prompto wants to wake him, wants to rouse him with kisses and hold him and never let go; another enjoys the stillness of this moment, with no doubts or misunderstandings to trip him up, to potentially spoil what’s been such a wonderful night.

He hates being so cynical, but he can’t fight the worry sometimes that Noct can do better than him. It seems to dog him no less now that he’s seen Noct on his home turf at the Citadel, now that he’s intimately acquainted with the future that awaits the prince.

It’s a future Prompto isn’t so sure he has a place in.

These would be the doubts he’s not supposed to let in, huh?

Noct seems so peaceful where he sleeps bathed in moonlight. Prompto can’t help but think that if he could just nestle against him, could just cling to him, maybe some of that peacefulness would soak into him, too.

He settles for scooching closer, close enough to see the way Noct’s eyelashes flutter while he dreams.

He wonders what images run across Noct’s mind while he sleeps; if he’s dreaming of their kisses, of the heated touches they shared. They didn’t go  _ all the way — _ Prompto cringes to think of it in such teen magazine terms — but it had been a close thing, and he still feels as though his skin burns everywhere the prince’s hands had roamed.

Carefully, gently enough that he doesn’t wake him, Prompto brushes the pad of his thumb along the line of Noct’s jaw.

He feels the urge to rouse him again, to use the rest of the night to commit every inch of Noct’s skin to memory in case he never gets another chance. He almost gives in to it — gets as far as stroking the tip of his finger against Noct’s lip, featherlight, and it’s only as Noct’s brow furrows slightly that he stops and pulls away.

It’s too late, though, and a moment later the prince is blearily opening his eyes; with a drowsy smile, he stretches up a hand and catches Prompto’s with it, clumsily threading their fingers together.

‘S’it snowing?’ he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

Prompto figures he’s joking — he laughs and snuggles close, touching a kiss to Noct’s throat. A moment later, however, he hears the steady sounds of breathing, and wonders if Noct was ever really awake at all.


End file.
